


Stuck With You

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Sherlock, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Arranged Bonding, Friends to Lovers, I promise, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Omega John, Strangers to Friends, future smut, mystrade, no non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-03 19:50:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 28,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/701960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson found out he was an Omega when he was six years old. At the age of ten, his parents happily informed him that they had found an Alpha to bond him with when he was of age. John was told almost nothing about the Alpha, except that he came from a wealthy family and that his name was Sherlock. Now, at the age of seventeen, John is being sent to live with Sherlock until they both turn eighteen. Then, they will bond. </p><p>This is the story of Sherlock and John, two boys who were forced together by societal rules but bonded out of love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> I know that Sherlock is typically portrayed as several years younger than John, but for simplicity's sake I have decided to make the age gap smaller. I'm claiming creative freedom on that one haha.
> 
> Unbeta'd and not brit picked. If you find any spelling errors or anything, please feel free to let me know. Concrit is always welcome :D

John Watson stumbled into the large parlor and scowled at his father, who had shoved him. “Behave for him. He’s to be your Alpha.” he growled threateningly before shutting the door. John sighed as he heard the snick of a lock and turned to look for the mysterious Alpha he had been promised to. He had only been told his name. John’s body was stiff with anxiety and his Omega scent, while still sweet and alluring, was thick with fear and anger at the promised bonding. “Hello?” John muttered, moving towards the large armchairs that were sitting near the fire.

Sherlock had been sitting in his favourite armchair, a warm, particularly squishy number of worn, deep red fabric and dark wood accents when he heard the door open. A harsh sounding exchange occurred, just far enough away that Sherlock couldn't hear what had been said, and Sherlock tucked a bookmark into the heavy tome he had been reading with a sigh. _So much for a peaceful night of reading_ Sherlock thought bitterly as the Omega walked over towards his perch. Sherlock's body stiffened when he caught the sweet yet fearful scent radiating off of the teen, and he almost bared his teeth.

"Let's make a few things perfectly clear. We don't know each other, and I don't particularly care to know you. Our parents have arranged for you to live with me and for us to spend each waking moment of our time together in the hopes that I will succumb to my baser instincts and bond with you. I have no desire and no intention of procreating with you. If that's all understood, then I hope you'll have a seat." Sherlock said breezily as soon as the Omega was within hearing range.

John blinked rapidly as the Alpha spoke, mind reeling to catch up. "Um...hello to you too." John said a little lamely as he processed what the Alpha had said. 'I have no desire and no intention of procreating with you'. Wow. That was direct. The Alpha didn't want pups. John breathed a sigh of relief and sank into the chair next to Sherlock's. "Well I have no intention of becoming a breeder, so I think we'll at least get along in that aspect." John said quietly, relaxing into the comfortable chair with a small sigh. "I'm John, but I'm sure you already know that."

Sherlock shook his head. "Someone may have told me, but if they did I deleted it." Sherlock responded coolly, placing the heavy book on the table beside his chair. John wondered for a moment if the book could break bones when thrown, but decided not to voice that particular question. His cheeks flamed at the idea of having his name forgotten; he had not been able to forget Sherlock's name since the day he had been told he would be bonded to the younger teen.

_"Johnny, your father and I have decided...well, we've decided to arrange a bonding for you. You know that you're an Omega, and since you're so delicate we just want to keep you safe. So your father and I met with a lovely family from outside of London to discuss bonding you with their son. They had just found out that he's an Alpha, and while he's a year younger we think it will be a good match." John's mum explained softly, sitting on the edge of his bed with a hand on his knee. John's brows furrowed in confusion, a look that would become almost patent on his face as the years wore on._

_"But in the stories the Omegas always get to meet their Alphas first mum." John said after a moment. John's father snorted from the doorway._

_"Well these aren't fairy tales John. Omegas are too weak to decide for themselves who they want, and if the choice were up to them they'd bond with the first Alpha who promised to knot them." John's father said. Mrs. Watson glared at him and flushed in both mortification and anger._

_"Don't speak like that. He's only a boy." she scolded. Mr. Watson glared at his mate._

_"You will speak when spoken to." he growled, and with a jerk of his head he dismissed Mrs. Watson from the room. John swallowed roughly, hating when he was stuck alone with his father. Ever since that fateful doctor's visit when John was told he would be an Omega, his father had treated him differently. Harry was precious and strong and brave because she was the Alpha. John was his shameful little Omega son. John averted his eyes, knowing that his father got angry when John looked at him for too long._

  
_"You...you are an Omega. You are my responsibility until I can ship you off to be some poor Alpha's little bitch. Got it?"_

_"Yes sir." John whispered; even at ten years old, John knew that the Alpha was boss._

_"Good. Your Alpha's name is Sherlock. Don't forget it." John's father snapped before walking out of the room and slamming the door shut. John tried not to whimper as he heard the door lock behind him._

_  
_Sherlock could see the Omega's hurt, and so he decided on a topic change to avoid emotional topics. Emotions made Sherlock itch, and he wanted to avoid them as much as possible. "What about your schooling?" Sherlock questioned. "I can see that you've completed secondary school, but that gives me almost no indication of how intelligent or unintelligent you actually are." Sherlock's eyes trailed over John as he spoke, absorbing little details here and there and storing the information for later.

John huffed a bit when Sherlock scanned him, noting how intelligent the Alpha's eyes were. "I went to the local secondary school with the other Omegas my age. Graduated at the top of my class, and once I'm bonded I'll be able to go to uni if you allow it." John said breezily. He wasn't a genius, but John knew he was incredibly clever. "I want to go to medical school." John elaborated. Sherlock stiffened visibly and his hackles rose.

"Well, you may forget that idea this second, and I would prefer it if you did," he muttered. "You are mine now, but we will never - _never_ \- bond with one another. Is that clear?" Sherlock practically growled, gaze hard and icy. While he admired John's goals and his apparent intelligence (because Sherlock would admit becoming a doctor required _some_ brains), he could not . John flinched at Sherlock's snappy tone and immediately shrank in upon himself. Trying not to let the crushing weight of having everything he had worked for since he was a young child snatched away show on his face, John nodded obediently. On top of that blow was the instinctual reaction of his Omega side, the pain of being rejected by an Alpha. John felt defective and he pulled his knees up to his chest in an almost child-like motion, wrapping his arms around them to keep from trembling.

"It's clear." John whispered, looking at the floor. Sherlock saw the young, pained look on John's face and for just a brief moment he acknowledged his Alpha side and leaned forward to touch John's forearm in what he assumed would be a comforting gesture.

"I'm sorry John. I don't wish to make you unhappy, but I just cannot bond." Sherlock whispered. John wanted to jump up, run from the Alpha, his heart pounding miserably in his chest. When Sherlock got closer, John shrank as far back into the cushion of the chair as he could and buried his face in his arms, causing Sherlock's hand to fall to the arm of the chair with a dull thump.

"It's fine." John muttered quietly, ignoring the fact that there were now hot tears rolling down his cheeks. He hated how his life had turned out, loathed everything in that moment. His alcoholic mother, being an Omega, having an Alpha who didn't even want to bond with him...John wanted to lock himself in a room and cry until he couldn't stay conscious. "Y-you're the Alpha...y-you m-m-make the rules." John stammered, his body starting to shake as the non-Omega part of his mind started screaming about everything he wouldn't have now. He couldn't even satisfy his baser nature's want for children now. His entire being was shattering, and quickly. John was promised to Sherlock, so his father would never allow him to find another Alpha, and Sherlock was already demonstratively possessive. John would be a pretty little piece in Sherlock's menagerie, for show but never for play, and that tore him up inside. He didn't even hear the apology in Sherlock's voice because of how upset he was. Sherlock felt something hot twist in his chest at this; 'you're the Alpha, you make the rules'. The words came so easily out of John's mouth, yet there was something so old fashioned, so totolitarian about them that it made Sherlock's stomach hurt.

"John, I don't wish to be a tyrant-" Sherlock began, reaching out to touch John's leg. John looked up and snarled at Sherlock despite the thick tears rolling down his face when the Alpha touched him.

"Don't you dare touch me." John hissed, finally gaining control of the battle between natures in his head and having his non-Omega rise out on top. John was up in an instant, pacing back and forth, body shaking as his tears of loss turned into tears of rage. "You don't want to be a tyrant, but lucky for you, you were born with just a cock so you get to be anyway!" John almost screamed, flopping onto the floor in front of the fire and putting his head in his hands. "I don't get to decide what happens to me Sherlock. Not legally. My father sent me here...I'm your responsibility now, legally anyway. Everything I do or do not do in life is dictated by you, and I can tell you right now that I won't get to do anything outside of this estate until I'm bonded. So congratulations. You've won yourself a stupid little Omega. I can tell you like studying things. Maybe it won't be so bad." John raged, jumping up again and striding over towards the window. He pressed his forehead against the glass. "Maybe." he whispered, feeling trapped. Sherlock could only stare in shock as the Omega jumped from rage to depression so quickly that Sherlock felt he was watching a tennis match. Underlying Sherlock's slight confusion was something else though, something instinctive, and it was that that made Sherlock wrench his jaw open.

"You're not some little pet or plaything." Sherlock said quietly, moving to stand beside John but keeping his hands folded at the small of his back. John snorted and turned his head further away from Sherlock.

"Aren't I though?" John questioned. The soft question and look of utter despair on John's face made Sherlock want to cringe. He had been raised under the impression that Omegas were foolish little things, weak and needy, desperate for affection, knotting, having a slew of children...but John was different, and glaringly so. This Omega was not crying out of weakness, but rather out of desperation for freedom. Sherlock would be the first to admit that he loathed the laws that made Omegas so powerless. It was apparently those laws now that made John feel like a pet, and Sherlock had only furthered that feeling by becoming so quickly possessive but refusing a bond. Sherlock was unused to such emotions such as guilt and regret, and on top of that he was becoming quickly confused by the fact that his Alpha nature was rising so quickly, demanding that he comfort and protect the distraught Omega at his side.

"You aren't." Sherlock repeated, this time placing his hand cautiously on John's shoulder. When John didn't jerk away, Sherlock felt it was safe to continue speaking. "I spoke too quickly, and for that I apologize. I should explain myself."

"Please do." John muttered, unable to look at the Alpha and hating how his Omega side purred with satisfaction at the comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I am incredibly intelligent John. Genius level intelligence. The only thing in life that satisfies me is mental stimulation, challenges, learning things, scientific inquiry. I find emotions, sex, bonding...all of those things to be unnecessarily messy and distracting. My body is just transport, and it is rare that I give in to its needs. I am ornery, I have an unparalleled disdain for ignorance, I rarely eat or sleep, I cause trouble wherever I go, and I am all around terrible with people. I am sorry that our families thought it would be wise to have you bond with me when you would obviously do better with someone who is willing to create the bond that will give you the freedom to pursue your goals. It is out of selfishness that I will refuse this bond, not anything else. I am sure you would be an incredibly worthy partner, and I hope that perhaps we will be able to be friends someday if you can cope with my personality, but I just...I can't do it John. I cannot lose control of my mental faculties for any reason, and bonding with you would give me a million reasons to do so." Sherlock explained, his voice already so deep for a sixteen year old. It was that voice that soothed John's aches, and John's posture relaxed after a long while. When he finally turned to look at Sherlock, the tears were gone from those deep blue eyes, and the faintest hint of a smile was furling the corners of his lips.

"When you explain it like that, I can't hold it against you." John said. "I'd like for us to be friends someday. I mean, we are going to be stuck together for a very long time, so why not, right?" he added, the faint smile developing into a more solid one. It was the warm smile on John's face that caused a similarly warm smile to cross Sherlock's usually severe countenance, and Sherlock nodded, his black curls flopping into his eyes.

And so began the long and (at least for John) tasking process of becoming friends.


	2. Possessive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's father is less than pleased when hours pass and his son has still not bared his neck to Sherlock. Sherlock is even angrier when John's father lays hands on the Omega. 
> 
> aka the chapter in which Sherlock is oddly possessive and John finds that he doesn't mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented/read/bookmarked/gave kudos on the first chapter. I am hoping that you all enjoy this work as much as I do. 
> 
> I was asked if there will be mpreg in this story, and the answer is "most likely not". I say that because while I am fascinated by that aspect of the omegaverse, I want this story to be more about the two of them developing their relationships (friends and then bondmates). If I choose to take this story further on (say, once John is done med school and they are older) and decide that I would like to write an mpreg story (it's omegaverse, it happens) it will be a sequel. So if that isn't your cup of tea, this story will be written and completed in a way that it could be a standalone.
> 
> Warnings: Descriptions of child abuse, foul language, John's father is a huge jerk. 
> 
> As with the last chapter, unbeta'd and not britpicked. Please let me know if you find any errors :D I try my best.

 

The next few hours in the parlour were spent in relative quiet; the only sounds filling the space were the crackling of the fire in the fireplace and the ripple of pages being turned. John had taken to exploring the area and found a shelf loaded with medical text books. While the sight of them pained John slightly, he couldn’t resist and had soon settled down in the armchair beside Sherlock’s with a few heavy volumes and began to read. Sherlock looked up once or twice and smiled in pleasant surprise when he saw how fast of a reader John was; he almost rivalled Sherlock. It wasn’t until the clock on the mantle was past three that their silence was broken by a heavy knock on the door. John jolted, being torn out of his book by the sudden sound, and Sherlock frowned in annoyance.

“Come in.” Sherlock called, and the door opened to reveal John’s father, who looked furious. John swallowed heavily and put the book down slowly.

“John, come with me.”  Arthur growled, and John shot Sherlock an almost worried look before standing up and following him out of the room. Sherlock waited a few moments and then followed, his lithe frame making almost no sound as he walked.

“What the fuck are you doing boy?” John’s father hissed, slamming John against the wall by his collar once they reached a smaller office down the hall. John whimpered and let his eyes fall shut, terrified by the Alpha’s rage.

“I-I-I…” John stammered, and Arthur shook his son so roughly that John’s teeth rattled.

“You aren’t here to make cozy John. You are here to bond.” Arthur snarled, and at that John’s eyes opened and met Arthur’s in an angry glare.

“Neither of us want that.” John said bravely, and the Alpha slapped him hard across the face.

“You will do what I tell you to John Hamish Watson, or so help me I will lock the both of you in that parlour until your heat comes. I know how you are, you probably gave him a bunch of crocodile tears about how you’re _scared_ to be bonded and how you _aren’t ready_ to have pups, but you are an Omega so you will shut your filthy little mouth and let him do whatever he damn well pleases with you, got it?” Arthur almost shouted, shaking John again.

“He. Doesn’t. Want. To.” John said slowly, anger broiling low in his gut. At this, Arthur smacked his son again, so hard that his nose began to bleed. It hurt like hell and John cried out as blood spurted from his nose, which was most likely broken now thanks to the blow of Arthur’s palm against the bridge. Father and son heard an unearthly snarl and then John slid to the floor as Arthur was yanked away from John by a pale hand in his sandy hair.

Sherlock had been watching the whole exchange from the hallway, easily able to see John thanks to his father’s stupid decision of leaving the door open just a tad. The first blow to John’s face made the young Alpha bristle with anger; although they weren’t bonded, John was _his_ Omega and nobody would strike him like that. The thought alone made Sherlock question how readily he was allowing John to enter into his life, how easily the Omega was already burrowing under his skin. Perhaps it was John’s difference from other Omegas, or how John accepted Sherlock’s refusal to bond once Sherlock explained his thought process, but either way Sherlock found himself fascinated by John and wanted to protect him. However, when Sherlock saw the blood run down John’s face his vision turned red and he gave in to a wave of Alpha fury so potent it shocked him. He stormed into the room and grabbed John’s father by the hair, throwing him to the ground roughly. Arthur blinked up at Sherlock stupidly and then bared his teeth in a sign of Alpha rage. Sherlock bristled further at this and punched him once, a swift, hard blow that made the older man slam his head against the floor. Dazed, Arthur was unable to fight back and Sherlock pinned his throat to the floor with the heel of his foot.

“Touch him again like that and I will end your life, do you understand me? He is _mine_.” Sherlock snarled, and at this Arthur nodded. “Furthermore, learn to be able to tell when people are lying. I am not bonding with John now, or ever, but he is most certainly mine and nobody, _nobody_ will touch him. Get out of my house.” Sherlock hissed, eyes flashing dangerously. When he let Arthur up, the other Alpha left without so much as another word and Sherlock’s anger faded as quickly as it had come. Spinning around, he fell to his knees and touched John’s face with surprisingly gentle hands.

“Are you alright?” Sherlock asked, tilting John’s head from side to side and examining his pupils for signs of a concussion.

“Fibe. My nobe hurts do.” John said, his mouth and nose thick with blood. Sherlock growled low in his throat at this and pulled out a clean handkerchief from his trouser pocket.

“Here, try to slow the bleeding a bit. I’m going to ask Mrs. Hudson to send for the driver. I want your nose checked. It appears broken.” Sherlock said softly, and standing smoothly, he left.

-0-0-0-0-0-

“It most certainly is broken.” the doctor, a friendly looking Beta who had recently gone through a divorce, Sherlock deduced, said. “You said you were his…” the doctor flipped through the paperwork on the clipboard.

“Promised. We have decided to wait to bond, but he is legally my Omega.” Sherlock explained swiftly. The secretary in the front office had given him a rather large amount of trouble over it, but when Sherlock showed her all of the legal paperwork, she quailed under his glare and nodded.

“Alright. Now, can you tell me again how John sustained such a heavy injury? There are bruises, bumps, cuts, and scars all over him.” the doctor asked, shooting Sherlock a pointed look. Sherlock stiffened, horror rising quick in his throat.

“His father struck him across the face. As you can see from the paperwork, John only became my Omega today. I believe his father is to blame for the signs of abuse, considering I haven’t known John long enough to deal those injuries.” Sherlock answered, his voice smooth and calm despite the rage boiling up again. The doctor nodded and then motioned for Sherlock to follow him into the room where John was.

-0-0-0-0-0-

John was sitting on the exam table with his nose packed and a prescription for some pain relievers in his hand when Sherlock came in. John immediately reached for his vest, not wanting Sherlock to see his bruise riddled torso. However, with one look at the Alpha’s face, he knew that Sherlock had seen them. The doctor excused himself-even a Beta could smell the possessive anger radiating off of Sherlock-and shut the door behind them. Paling slightly, John looked at the floor.

“Sorry. I’m sure they thought this,” he waved at his nose, “was your fault.”

“As soon as I explained our situation the doctor dismissed that as a possibility.” Sherlock said, slowly approaching John. He sucked in a harsh breath; up close, the bruises were even darker, a sickening kaleidoscope of purples, blacks, greens, and yellows that marred the otherwise light skin of the Omega. A gentle finger traced a bruise right above John’s heart and John whimpered, moving away.

“Don’t touch them…they hurt.” John whispered, and Sherlock’s hand dropped immediately.

“I can’t believe he did this to you John.” Sherlock murmured, following the bruises with his eyes and noting exactly which ones were caused by fists, feet, even a belt. He shuddered; it was so against Alpha nature to beat an Omega that Sherlock couldn’t even swallow his disgust.

“He’s got a bit of a drinking problem. Ever since mum died, he’s been hitting me. He thinks it’s my fault. Said the stress of having a slutty Omega for a son killed her.” John explained, his voice low and his eyes dull. Sherlock growled at that.

“You haven’t ever been touched by an Alpha, or even a beta. I would be able to smell it on you.” Sherlock whispered, and then he carded a hand through John’s hair carefully. John relaxed slightly at the reassuring touch, and his lips curled up into a ghost of a smile when Sherlock held out his vest.

“Let’s go home John.” Sherlock proposed, and for once, John didn’t dread the words.

-0-0-0-0-0-

After a long and relatively uncomfortable dinner with Mycroft, Sherlock’s mother, and Mrs. Hudson, the housekeeper, Sherlock showed John to his bedroom.

“Where does that door lead?” John questioned, putting his bags down on the frankly enormous bed and nodding at the door to the left of it. Sherlock shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot and sighed.

“That door leads to my bedroom.” Sherlock finally muttered, and John paled slightly.

“There isn’t a lock.” John croaked. Sherlock growled at this and sat on the edge of John’s bed with a suffering sigh.

“The lock is on my side of the door. Is there a problem?” Sherlock questioned, feeling oddly hurt that John wanted a lock.

“Yes. My heat is in three days, and if you don’t want to bond I had better be able to lock you out.” John said almost snappily. Sherlock’s face paled as well then, and he stood up quickly.

“I’ll be right back.” Sherlock said, and with that he vanished into his bedroom. There was an odd rattle, and then a few seconds later the doorknob fell from the door and rolled onto the floor.

“Sherlock, what are you doing?” John sighed. The door opened and Sherlock emerged holding the other side of the doorknob.

“Flipping the doorknobs so that you can lock the door.” Sherlock said with a faint grin, a screwdriver in his other hand. John’s face split into a wide smile; one less thing for him to worry about.

-0-0-0-0-0-

That night John lay in the unfamiliar bed and found that he couldn’t sleep. The room was too large, the house too quiet without the dull roar of London in the background. Eventually John sat up with a sigh and scrubbed his hands over his face, wincing when he accidentally brushed his nose. The day had been a whirlwind of high emotions, and John should be exhausted. Instead, he found that he was overly energetic, buzzing with adrenaline thanks to the anxiety of being thrown into a new situation. He let his mind wander, and eventually found himself thinking about the Alpha in the next room over. Sherlock, with those high, razor sharp cheekbones, mysteriously coloured eyes, and floppy black curls that John had a sudden urge to run his fingers through. Sherlock, who had refused to bond with him and yet threatened to kill John’s father if he ever harmed him again, and who was oddly distant yet fiercely possessive…the teen was an anomaly to John, an Alpha who was both everything and nothing than an Alpha should be. And yet, it was the thought of getting to know the wild and enigmatic Alpha that allowed John to finally fall asleep with a smile on his face.


	3. The First Heat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for John's first heat. Mutual masturbation implied, John takes a bath while Sherlock is in the room. Nothing too graphic.

“You are an idiot.” Sherlock growled, and John’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Excuse me?” John asked, his eyebrows rising angrily. It was only the third day that John had been in the Holmes manor when Sherlock’s less than savoury demeanour had risen from the ashes of shock and fascination. Now that Sherlock had realized and accepted the fact that John was unpredictable, he was being as rude as possible not out of a desire to see John’s varying reactions, but because he was so utterly frustrated by the fact that he couldn’t read John like he could read everyone else.

“You. Are. An. Idiot.” Sherlock repeated, his tone condescending as he spoke. John’s hands clenched into fists and he turned away from the window. The parlour had become their refuge of sorts, because Sherlock’s overbearing, pushy mother did not follow them there and Mycroft’s judgemental glances were reserved for the dining room, sitting room, and hallways only. Now, however, John was feeling a bit stifled. Sherlock had been in a strop all day, and now it appeared that he was taking it out on John.

“And what have I done now that is so stupid? I haven’t spoken a word to you for the past forty five minutes.” John answered, his voice level and calm despite the irritation quickly flaring up in his chest. Sherlock rolled his eyes and slung his arm over his face dramatically.

“You have wanted to say something to me for the past thirty minutes, and yet you continuously bite your lower lip and tap your fingers against your legs instead of speaking up. It is idiotic and rather irritating.” Sherlock explained, lifting his arm to glare at John a moment before letting it cover his face once more.

“When Mrs. Hudson came in here to ask what was wrong you threw a book at her and told her to go away. Which, I might add, is incredibly rude, especially considering she’s the only person in this house save for me that isn’t constantly badgering you about everything you do.” John snapped, folding his arms across his chest.

“You aren’t Mrs. Hudson.” Sherlock replied breezily before the faintest dusting of pink rose to colour his cheeks.

“Great observation.” John grumbled, turning to look out the window once more. Sherlock sighed and pinched the bridge of his fine nose in frustration.

“Just tell me what you want to say.” Sherlock mumbled, almost apologetic in tone. John let out a long, suffering sigh and then turned back to Sherlock.

“My heat will hit tomorrow. I just…thought you should know so that you can avoid the hallway or whatever you want to do.” John murmured, ears flushing red. Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows.

“Why would I want to do that?” he questioned.

“It will drive you mad if you stay there.”

“We’ll see.”

-0-0-0-0-0-

The next morning John groaned in discomfort as he stirred. As he slipped further and further into consciousness, he became more and more aware of just how irritating his pyjamas were against his skin. Gritting his teeth, John peeled off his tee and tossed it to the floor. He got out of bed and padded over to the thermostat, checking it. He was almost dripping with sweat, but the thermostat was set to a comfortable 20 ºC.

“Shit.” John hissed, and he quickly crossed back to his bed to make sure that the door between his and Sherlock’s rooms was locked. After that he opened the cabinet beside his closet and checked to make sure that he would have enough water and food to last him the five days that his heat would consume.

Then it was time to wait.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Sherlock awoke to a soft moan coming from the bedroom next to his. At first the sound didn’t register, but then he bolted wide awake as another, louder moan followed. He took a slow breath, and sure enough the heady scent of an Omega in heat was wafting through the door despite the fact that John must have stuffed a towel under it earlier. Sherlock tried not to let the scent get to him, but the more he breathed, the more aroused he became until he found himself sitting with his back to the door.

“John?” Sherlock called, his voice low.

“No!” John cried, unreasonably close to the door. Then again, Sherlock was also unreasonably close to the door. Sherlock furrowed his brows; _no? why would he shout no?_ Sherlock pondered before his eyes widened.

“John, I’m not coming in, I promise. Just…let me know if you’re okay.” Sherlock said calmly, despite the growing erection he was sporting. He began to breathe through his mouth, hoping that the scent would cease affecting him.

“Do you think I’m okay?!” John snapped, and Sherlock could hear a faint, repetitive shift. His mouth went dry when he realized it was the sound of John rutting his arse against the floor.

“Is there any way I can help without coming in?” Sherlock asked, wanting to smack himself as soon as he asked. John whimpered slightly.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Sherlock’s voice and close scent was driving John mad. His thighs were dripping with lubricant and he was aching with the sheer _need_ to be filled, but he knew that he couldn’t open that door no matter how badly he wanted. When his heat faded, John and Sherlock would both regret if anything transpired between them, and so John contented himself to just grind against the floor and stroke his own aching erection. Then Sherlock asked if he needed help and the offer was just too good to refuse.

“Just talk to me. Your voice makes me feel better.” John said, because it was half true. Sherlock’s already silken baritone soothed John, but at the same time Sherlock’s voice also sent need burning hot down his spine.

-0-0-0-0-0-

The request made Sherlock blush, but he talked and talked. He told John about all the deductions he had made about him, both correct and incorrect, how John confused him and fascinated him, and then when he ran out of John related things to talk about, Sherlock turned to his childhood. Sherlock explained his father’s absence, how Mycroft had almost raised him, how the kids in school bullied him even though he was an Alpha. Sherlock divulged secrets to John, secrets he had never told anyone, and as much as his mind was screaming to stop for once Sherlock couldn’t help himself. Perhaps it was the heady scent of John’s pheromones, or maybe it was the slick sound of John touching himself, or maybe it was just the fact that over the past three days Sherlock had grown to trust John more than he trusted another human being. John was loyal and kind, and Sherlock felt guilt rising in his chest hot and sticky because the one thing that he could offer John in return for the aspiring doctor’s kindness was a bond, because the bond would allow John to pursue his dreams and become a doctor. Sherlock hated himself in that moment, hated how selfish he was, and if he wanted to cry the entire time he fisted his own cock and jerked his hips in time with the sounds John was making, nobody really knew that.

-0-0-0-0-0-

_Five days later_

John awoke yawning, and the first thing he noticed was that he wasn’t dripping with lubricant and rutting desperately against the sheets. A grin of relief spread across his face, and he moved to take a shower in the attached bathroom. However, he had difficulty eating and drinking during his heat, the need almost too distracting. John had eventually allowed Sherlock into the room to help him between heats, and whatever Sherlock managed to feed John usually came back up in between the following waves. That lack of nourishment for five days had made John weak, and he stumbled, falling face first onto the plush carpet. He grunted in pain, and wasn’t surprised to hear a frantic knocking from the door attached to Sherlock’s room.

“John, are you alright? Did you fall out of bed?” Sherlock asked, clearly panicking.

“Yeah, I fell. I’m okay though. Just tired.” John answered. A few moments passed and then he heard the snick of the lock and the door swung open to reveal a frightened looking Sherlock, eyes wide, face paler than usual, hair in a chaotic halo around his head. His face softened when he took in the sight of the naked blond laying spread eagle on the floor, and he tutted quietly.

“How’d you get in here?” John asked, and Sherlock chuckled.

“I picked the lock.” Sherlock replied, kneeling next to John to press the back of his hand against John’s forehead. Once he was sure John wasn’t burning up with fever, Sherlock wrapped one arm around the sturdy Omega and pulled him up. John’s knees shook and he stumbled, but with Sherlock’s help he was able to get into the bathroom. Sherlock sat him on the edge of the bathtub and started running the water, plugging the drain when the water was warm enough.

“You don’t have to-“ John began, but Sherlock shook his head.

“You’re my responsibility, and you’re incredibly weak. I don’t need you drowning in the shower or killing yourself by falling and breaking your skull on the edge of the desk.” Sherlock said, helping ease John into the warm water. John let out a contented sigh and nodded his head once, eyes slipping shut lazily.

“Alright. Thanks Sherlock.” John mumbled, head lolling to the side. Sherlock left the room and came back a few moments later with a bottle of water and a few protein bars.

“Here, eat this. I’ll stay to make sure you don’t fall asleep and drown.” Sherlock said, passing John the food. John wolfed down the bars and hummed in appreciation when his growling stomach ceased its noise for the moment. After guzzling the water as well, John felt much more human. He noticed, however, that he didn’t feel embarrassed lying naked in a bathtub with Sherlock sitting next to him.

“I…apologize for being rude to you before.” Sherlock murmured out of nowhere. John’s eyes widened, but he smiled sunnily.

“It’s okay…so, you said something about wanting to be a pirate?” John teased, letting Sherlock know that he didn’t really care that Sherlock had been rude, especially since the other teen had apologized. Sherlock laughed, his deep baritone making John feel a bit giddy, and John decided that he would make Sherlock laugh more.

Neither of them would admit that they were beginning to feel attraction to the other; despite the smallness of the seed, it was planted.


	4. Moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I felt that while it would be sweet to write out how John and Sherlock got to know each other a little better, I wanted to move the story along as well. This next installment takes place 3 months after John's arrival, and while the two are closer, they're still trying to figure each other out. 
> 
> I may write out the missing time at a later point in a series of one shots. 
> 
> No warnings for this chapter.

“John.”

There was silence. John had his nose buried in another medical text book, pen scratching silently as he took notes. Sherlock huffed in annoyance, now knowing what others felt when he ignored them in favor of his work.

“John!”

Still silent. Sherlock growled and got up, moving so that he was standing in front of John. Long fingered hands rested on narrow hips, pale eyes narrowed in frustration, a frown ever so slightly curling the corners of bowed lips downward.

“JOHN!” Sherlock practically screamed, nudging John’s foot a little less than kindly with his own. John slammed the text book shut and threw his pen at Sherlock.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT?! I’M WORKING HERE!” John screamed back, face immediately flushing with frustration. Sherlock smirked; at least he had gotten some sort of reaction out of John other than patience.

“Why didn’t you join the army?” Sherlock asked, cocking his head to the side and looking every bit like a confused puppy with the way his dark curls flopped from the movement. John pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head.

“I don’t want to talk about this Sherlock.” John sighed, but Sherlock was determined. He had found the army information packets tucked beneath John’s mattress, and he _had_ to know.

“Well I want to know, so why don’t you just tell me?” Sherlock suggested, putting on his ‘sweet face’. John glared at Sherlock; having lived with the other teen for three months now, he knew exactly what Sherlock was up to.

“Because I don’t want to talk about it.” John huffed in annoyance before cracking open the book again. His face flushed angrily when a spider-like hand splayed against the pages, blocking the diagram of the nervous system he was studying.

“John.” Sherlock said, his voice firm yet gentle. It was the sudden change in Sherlock’s tone that made John look up again, and he was shocked by the genuine curiosity and gentle concern evident in Sherlock’s features. John let out a soft sigh and slid the book out from under Sherlock’s hand. Marking his page, he shut the book and set it on the table beside what had become ‘his’ chair.

“It wasn’t for a lack of trying. I saved up my pocket money for years, and I worked little odd jobs after school, pretending I was going in for tutoring to earn some money…” John began.

“Why was the money relevant to joining the army?” Sherlock immediately asked. John rolled his eyes.

“I’m getting to it, keep your pants on.” John said before continuing. “I needed the money to buy three years’ worth of black market heat suppressants and birth control. Which I did. When I had been on the regiment for a month, I went to the army. They accepted my fake ID and everything. I was basically in when they got an anonymous tip from somebody suggesting that one of their new recruits was an Omega. They blood tested every recruit, and they found three other Omegas besides me. I could have been arrested but luckily the man who discovered us was a sympathizer and just rejected us on the base of “medical issues”. If he had let out that we were non-bonded Omegas trying to join we would’ve been arrested and imprisoned.” John explained. Sherlock listened, his eyes wide with awe at John’s dogged determination and clever execution of the plan.

“And when you got caught that’s when you gave up.” Sherlock mused. John glared at him venomously.

“I didn’t give up. I’ve never given up and I never will. I’m just…waiting. Sometimes things take time. Maybe someday I’ll get more legal rights just because I’ve got a promised bond. They’re considered almost as legitimate now, except for the fact that I can’t leave your property without permission, so I mean…just…maybe.” John said, his cheeks flushed with colour. Sherlock’s eyebrows rose slightly, and he realized that John was flushed with excitement and hope; even the thought of potentially being allowed to have full legal rights one day made John happy and alive in a way that Sherlock couldn’t describe. Once again his stomach turned and Sherlock moved away from John.

-0-0-0-0-0-

John knew something was wrong the moment Sherlock turned away. He could see it in the way the tall, pale Alpha’s shoulders slumped, how his curls bounded forward as his frankly sinful neck bowed forward in a way that spoke of shame and self-loathing.

“Sherlock, what’s wrong?” John asked, rising from his chair easily and padding across the lush carpet that had been put in the parlour once it was realized that the two spent so much time there.

“Nothing.” Sherlock lied, his eyes staring out the window but for once not exactly seeing what he was looking at. John snorted and placed and gentle hand on Sherlock’s elbow.

“Sherlock, I can tell something is bothering you.” John said softly. Sherlock sighed and moved out from under John’s hand, but the aspiring doctor persisted. “Don’t shut me out Sherlock. I just trusted you with my biggest secret. That information could have me sent to prison. I want to know why you’re upset.” John continued, his voice never wavering away from concerned and gentle.

“Why do you even care?” Sherlock snapped, his tone so venomous that it caused John to recoil. John’s deep blue eyes flashed dangerously for a moment before John was pushing Sherlock against a bookshelf, his hands fisted in the material of Sherlock’s snug button-down.

“Why do I care? _Why do I care?_ Sherlock, I am _promised_ to you. I have lived with you for the past three months, and those months have been the happiest and most carefree months of my life. You don’t beat me, you don’t belittle me…in fact, you treat me more like a human being than my own family did. You ask me questions, you want to know about my life, you even respect my wishes and stay away from me when I’m in heat. Yeah, I know part of that is the fact that you don’t want to bond, but even if you didn’t want to bond you could still go in there when I’m basically helpless and take what you wanted. But you _don’t_. I care because _you_ care and because you make me feel like I’m worth something.” John practically ranted, colour high and bright in his cheeks and his eyes gleaming with a passion that made Sherlock shiver. Sherlock swallowed thickly, his adam’s apple bobbing in that pale throat, and John leaned forward, pressing his nose to Sherlock’s neck.

“John, what are you doing?” Sherlock whispered, eyes falling half shut in lazy pleasure as John’s soft nose brushed against the creamy skin of his throat.

“You’re mine, just like I’m yours. We may never bond, but these past few months…you’ve become my best friend. I would go to the end of the earth to make you happy Sherlock. I want you to realize you’re worth something. I see the way your mother treats you. She thinks you’re a stud horse, and that your one and only job is to produce heirs, but that isn’t fair. It’s not right, just like it isn’t right that people treat me like a breeder.” John murmured, and Sherlock’s eyes snapped right back open when he realized that the Omega was scenting him. Sherlock pushed John away and almost hissed.

“John, you don’t know the first thing about me.” Sherlock growled, and stormed away. John flinched when he heard Sherlock’s bedroom door slam and he knew that he had made a few mistakes.

-0-0-0-0-0-

John waited for three days, and on the fourth day he simply unlocked the door between their bedrooms and tried to push it open.

“Sherlock you berk, move the chair!” John called. He heard a huff and could imagine Sherlock flinging an arm over his face in annoyance, blatantly ignoring John. “I’ll give you twenty seconds, and if you don’t I’ll just find a way to break it open.”

There was a brief pause, and then the scrape of a chair could be heard. A few seconds later the lock clicked, and John pushed open the door. Sherlock was already across the room, his knees tucked to his chest. Throwing in the combination of his black silk dressing gown, grey pyjamas, and black curls flopping dramatically into his eyes, and John knew that this was a monumental sulk.

“What do you want John?” Sherlock growled, looking at the Omega through the fringe of hair in his face. John pulled the chair over to the bedside and worried at his bottom lip for a moment before speaking.

“I’m sorry Sherlock. I crossed a line the other day, and I shouldn’t have. I’ve been…stressed lately, and while I cannot exactly understand why, it has made me extremely impulsive. I had no right to invade your space, especially in such an intimate way, and I should have kept my comments to myself.” John explained quietly, his eyes cast downward the entire time he spoke. Sherlock’s chest contorted painfully and he was across the large mattress in a flash, his hand on John’s knee.

“No, I apologize. I…was impulsive as well. I know what you were saying was meant to be comforting, and while I am terrible with sentiment I should try harder because you are so spectacularly driven by it. Also, it is my selfishness and cowardice that prevents you from pursuing your goals. I owe you my apology more than you owe me yours.” Sherlock said. John’s eyes fell to the knee on his leg, and the warmth seeping through the denim of his jeans made John’s own eyes drift partly shut with a purring sort of pleasure.

“It’s okay ‘Lock.” John murmured. Sherlock’s eyes went wide; nobody had ever called him ‘Lock before. He had never had a nickname. His mother found them to be stupid, childish things, and purely driven out of sentiment…but to hear one out of John’s mouth made Sherlock feel surprisingly warm. With colour rising in his cheeks, Sherlock smiled a small yet incredibly genuine smile. John looked up then, and when ocean blue eyes met pale, sea foam ones, Sherlock found that he was all of a sudden thinking that maybe bonding with John wouldn’t be so bad after all. The two failed to notice they were tipping closer and closer to each other, but then there was a knock at the door. Shocked out of their little trance, Sherlock tumbled to the floor with a yelp and John felt his cheeks flush deeply.

“Mummy wanted me to inform you that dinner will be served in ten minutes’ time, and that both of you should be acceptably dressed. We are expecting company.” Mycroft said haughtily from the doorway, his eyes gleaming in a way that gave away the fact that Mycroft knew exactly what he had just prevented from happening. Sherlock picked himself up off of the ground, slammed the door shut in his face, and locked it for good measure.

“Fat, annoying git.” he grumbled, trying to ignore the welling disappointment in his chest.

“Yeah.” John agreed, his heart racing like a jackrabbit’s. They stared at each other for a long while, chests almost heaving, tension so thick between them you could cut it with a knife, and then Sherlock snapped out of his trance.

“We should get ready for dinner.” he suggested quietly.

“Wh-yeah, of course. Right. Dinner. Um…sounds good. See you in five.” John stammered, stumbling into his bedroom and shutting the door. He slid down the smooth wood and let his head fall against it with a thump. Sherlock assumed the same position on the other side of the door.

“ _What the hell?_ ” both of them whispered in unknowing unison.


	5. Emotions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has read, commented, and left kudos. You guys are amazing and I hope you're enjoying this story as much as I am. This story is un-beta'd and not Brit Picked, so if you find any errors please let me know. 
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Profanity, mentions of domestic violence, Omega-shaming (not by Sherlock), cliff hangers...that will probably end up being not cliff hangers if I post the second part by tonight.

Sherlock examined his reflection in the mirror in his bathroom and scowled at it. He was caught in the awkward stages between a boy and a man, his long, floppy hair giving him a juvenile appearance while the faintest shadow of stubble was starting to show along his strong, thin jaw. However, it wasn’t the age Sherlock was looking at, but rather the fact that his pupils were larger than normal.

_This isn’t possible. I have never and will never be attracted to **anyone** , especially not an Omega, and definitely not John. _Sherlock thought, pressing two fingers to the pulse in his neck and keeping time with his wristwatch. _Heartbeat elevated as well. What is wrong with me?_ he pondered, and dropped his hands in frustration. Sherlock smoothed out his snug, charcoal grey button-down, slipped on his suit jacket, ran a wet comb through unruly curls, and blocked off all thoughts of his apparent attraction to John Watson as he stepped out into the hall to wait for said Omega.

-0-0-0-0-0-

John was conducting a similar examination in his own room, although it was far less clinical and a lot more profane.

_What the fuck?_ John thought, running a hand through sandy hair as he tugged on a dress shoe with his other hand. _Sherlock Holmes almost kissed me. Sherlock bloody Holmes. Almost kissed me. What the absolute buggering fuck? He doesn’t want that, he doesn’t want anything. Was that an experiment or did he seriously damage his brain or what?_ John continued, buttoning his white dress shirt the rest of the way and quickly yet masterfully tying a thin blue tie around his neck. He ran a bit of light product through his hair to make it a little more styled and a little less ‘just there’, grabbed his suit jacket, and then rushed out into the hallway to meet Sherlock, all thoughts of almost kissing pushed aside as he collected himself for dinner.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Sherlock froze when he walked into the dining room and saw the tall, thin man with auburn hair and cold grey eyes sitting beside his mother. The urge to fling himself over John, hide him from view, was almost overwhelming. However, the blond stepped into the room just as Sherlock turned to warn John, and a wicked grin spread across the man’s face.

“Sherlock…” the man began, and it was that sickeningly sweet tone that made John freeze, the cheery smile slipping immediately off of his face.

“Uncle Phillip.” Sherlock cut him off, eyes dangerous. Phillip’s icy grey eyes settled on John and the Omega just barely suppressed the urge to squirm.

“Your mother was just telling me that you had gotten a new pet. What’s its name?” Phillip purred. John’s face flushed angrily and he clenched his jaw.

“ _His_ name is John.” Sherlock growled, hands tightening into fists.

“How precious! You’re already defensive of it. I knew you’d be a good Alpha.”

-0-0-0-0-0-

Sherlock and John were able to make it through the soup listening to Phillip’s downright degrading commentary before one of them snapped.

“I think it’ll produce good, healthy pups. Looks strong enough.” Phillip said to Sherlock’s mother, and at that Sherlock threw his spoon down with a loud clatter.

“HE is not a breeding mare! HE is a person, and I won’t listen to your inane, nonsensical, antiquated drivel anymore!” Sherlock snarled, standing up so quickly that his chair toppled over. The dining room grew so silent that John swore Mycroft, who was staring at him, could hear his heart pounding in his chest.

“Sherlock, you don’t know what you’re talking about boy. Omegas are weak, stupid little creatures that only need your co-“

“DON’T YOU DARE SAY IT!” Sherlock screamed just as his mother paled. “John is stronger and smarter than you will _ever_ be. Just because you’re so vile and undesirable that you have to beat your Omega so severely that she is afraid to leave you even though you force bonded her does NOT mean that Omegas are stupid and weak. Just because they’re biologically different doesn’t make them any less valuable as a human being, and meanwhile you, dear uncle, aren’t worth the dirt on the bottoms of my shoes.” Sherlock continued, his uncle growing steadily redder in the face as fury and outrage over being berated by his nephew bubbled up.

“I do not beat my Omega!” he defended.

“Then why are your knuckles bruised in a way that would only come from striking someone with a closed fist against their cheekbone? Why isn’t Aunt Lily here at dinner tonight? You told mother she is ill, but I know that she is currently at home nursing a shiner that would get you arrested for Omega abuse.” Sherlock snapped.

“Shut your mouth before you regret it boy.” Phillip hissed, standing slowly. The air crackled with the energy of two Alphas about to get into a major fight, and John placed a gentle hand on Sherlock’s elbow once more in what was becoming a familiar, comforting gesture.

“Sherlock, let’s just go back upstairs. It’s alright. He’s an idiot anyway.” John murmured, and Sherlock finally snapped out of his fury long enough to see that John was looking rather shaken. Sherlock nodded and whisked John away, not stopping his movements until they were locked up safe within the confines of his bedroom.

-0-0-0-0-0-

John flinched as Sherlock overturned his desk chair, heady Alpha pheromones pumping through the air and forcing John to breathe through his mouth.

“Sherlock, calm down.” John said, but Sherlock simply growled, a deep, enraged sound that shook John to his very bones. John knew then and there that he would never want to be the one who forced that sound out of Sherlock, and it was only the second time he had heard it.

“That _bastard_. How dare he talk about you like you’re some sort of-of-“

“Pet? Animal? Whore? Believe it or not Sherlock, but I’ve heard it all before. It’s okay.” John murmured, trying to calm the enraged Alpha down.

“It’s not okay!” Sherlock screamed, spinning around to face John. John was in shock; Sherlock, who was usually so calm, so placid and emotionless, was flushed with rage, his eyes glinting dangerously, cheeks bright red, hands shaking as they were clenched into fists. “People are so _stupid_! Just because you were born an Omega instead of a Beta or an Alpha that makes you weak? Makes you stupid? I know Alphas who are ten times weaker than you and a thousand times as stupid. I know I’m an Alpha and I was raised in that culture but dammit John, I cannot stand blatant stupidity. Science _and_ experience have proved time and time again that Omegas are just as clever, just as strong, just as brave as Alphas and Betas. It is infuriating how moronic people are!” Sherlock ranted, tugging at black curls so hard John feared that the Alpha would pull out his own hair.

“Sherlock, relax.” John said, his voice nothing more than a gentle rumble as he reached out and pried Sherlock’s fingers out of his hair. “It’s going to be okay, I’m not upset. Sometimes people just need proof that their ideas are wrong, and sometimes even then, yeah, they’re idiots and they won’t accept fact. But Sherlock, I promise you, I will prove him wrong just like I’m going to prove everyone else who has ever called me stupid or weak or desperate or slutty wrong. I’m tired of being seen as ‘the Omega’. Yes, I am an Omega, and I’m not ashamed of it. But I’m John first, and as long as _you_ see that, and as long as _you_ respect that, everything is fine. He’s not my promised Alpha, and nobody else is ever going to have me. I don’t care if we bond or not, as long as you’re still there as my friend Sherlock. Nothing else matters. So stop getting so upset. For once in your life, let somebody else handle this. I’m going to prove them all wrong one day, when the time is right. Calm down.” John murmured, and as John spoke Sherlock’s body relaxed until he was tipping forward, his forehead pressed against John’s shoulder, nose buried into the soft part of John’s neck. John tried to ignore the little shivers of pleasure he got every time Sherlock took a deep breath and scented him, and brought up a hand to rub soothing circles between pale shoulders.

“I hate being emotional. Feelings are so complicated and pointless…but I was just so _angry_. Why does he think he can treat you, treat his _wife_ like that?” Sherlock whispered. John stilled, realizing that Sherlock was definitely allowing him to see something nobody else had ever seen. Yes, they had all witnessed Sherlock’s anger, his sulks, his depression, but this…this was trust. Sherlock was confused, he was upset and not in his usual bored, angry way either.

“I don’t know Sherlock.” John admitted, hugging his friend tightly.

“John?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we have some tea?”

This made John chuckle, because the aspiring detective often teased him for binge drinking tea when he got upset. “Of course.” John smiled, and he squeezed Sherlock once more before heading down to the kitchen to make them tea.

-0-0-0-0-0-

The manor was silent as John crept down the stairs and into the kitchen. Mrs. Hudson was nowhere to be seen, presumably taking dinner in her private quarters before heading to bed for the night. John hummed a quiet little tune to himself as he waited for the kettle to boil, a teabag placed in each of the mugs set out. Once the tea was ready, Sherlock’s made just the way the young Alpha liked it, John left the kitchen. For some reason, an unsettling feeling settled over John’s back and he turned to find icy eyes looking down at him, evil intentions gleaming within.

“Hello there little pet.” Phillip purred.

Sherlock didn’t know something was wrong until he heard John scream.


	6. Emotions part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow...almost 5,000 hits. Thanks again to everyone who reads, comments, and leaves kudos. Bookmarks and subscriptions too. I got a lot of comments on the last chapter and while I was going to wait to post it until tomorrow I figured I couldn't do that to you lovelies. So here it is for your enjoyment.
> 
> Chapter Warnings: profanity, descriptions of violence, attempted force-bonding.

John’s back hit the wall almost immediately after Phillip’s voice sounded in his ear, the Omega trying to distance himself. Phillip had a dangerous look on his face, and John didn’t like it one bit.

“Hello.” John said, somehow managing to keep the panic out of his voice and off of his face for the time being. Phillip offered John a shark-like smile, and John’s lips twitched in a fake smile in response.

“You do know I’m going to have to punish Sherlock for speaking to me like that, don’t you John?” Phillip whispered, taking a step forward so that he was almost chest to chest with John. John swallowed nervously.

“I…I’ll be sure to let him know you’d like to speak to him.” John said, edging down the hall towards the stairs. A hand fell against the wall beside his head with a thud and Phillip chuckled darkly.

“Oh, it’s not Sherlock I’m going to touch…it’s you. He’s so protective of his precious little Omega but he won’t even fuck you…I’m going to make sure he never speaks like that again.” Phillip whispered, his breath hot and nauseating against John’s ear. John shuddered in revulsion as teeth nipped at his ear before moving down to his neck. When those teeth grazed the skin there, John knew what Phillip was going to try to do and the mugs fell to the ground, shattering and splashing scalding hot tea over their shoes.  “You’ll pick that up when I’m done.” Phillip growled before sinking his teeth into John’s neck. John screamed in pain and punched Phillip in the side of the head as hard as he could, dislodging the Alpha before the Alpha had the chance to break skin.

“Fuck you!” John growled, taking a defensive stance. Phillip’s eyes went almost red, and John knew he had started something dangerous.

“I plan on it.” Phillip snarled, lunging forward.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Sherlock vaulted down the stairs and listened. It was only when he heard shattering porcelain that he knew where John was. His socked feet skidded against hardwood floor as Sherlock turned the corner only to find John and Phillip locked in a violent fight. John had a split lip and a black eye, but it was Phillip that looked worse. Phillip’s nose was bleeding, it appeared that he was missing a tooth or two, and he was holding his arm in a way that revealed either a sprained or fractured wrist. When Sherlock spotted the bruise on John’s neck though, he almost lost it.

“Sherlock, no! This is my fight.” John snapped as Sherlock crept forward, and the Alpha paused long enough for John to deliver a blow to Phillip’s temple that knocked him out. The moment Phillip dropped like a ragdoll, Sherlock was at John’s side, checking him over for injuries. John hissed as Sherlock touched his knuckles, brushed his fingertips over the black eye that was beginning to swell.

“John…” Sherlock almost whimpered, bile rising in his throat at the sight of the injuries dealt to the Omega at the hands of his family. Just then Mycroft and Mummy came running.

“What is going on? We heard screaming.” Mummy gasped, clutching her chest. Mycroft’s eyes travelled from the unconscious form of Phillip to the injuries on John’s face, hands, and neck, and he growled low in his throat.

“Mummy, would you please fetch some ice for John? I need to make a phone call.” Mycroft asked breezily, having adapted to the mantle of man of the house rather quickly. Mummy nodded and disappeared into the kitchen while Mycroft pulled out his mobile.

-0-0-0-0-0-

When the police and paramedics arrived, they were faced with the frankly terrifying sight of an enraged and possessive Sherlock. Sherlock snarled dangerously at an Alpha paramedic who had approached John, flashing his teeth in an almost feral nature.

“Easy there Mr. Holmes, I’m not going to hurt him.” the paramedic said gently. By this time John was too exhausted and strained to even attempt at soothing Sherlock, who had taken up growling continuously.

“No Alphas. Get a Beta or an Omega, but get away from him.” Sherlock demanded. The paramedic sighed and waved over his Beta counterpart, who had been tending to the still unconscious Phillip.

“Your boy’s got a strong arm Mr. Holmes.” the paramedic chirped, a bubbly Beta female with fiery red hair and sparkling green eyes. Sherlock’s body relaxed ever so slightly and he stepped aside just enough that she could examine John’s injuries.

“Yes he does.” Sherlock responded, a hint of pride in his voice. John tilted his head to the side so that the paramedic could examine the bite wound and Sherlock almost let out a whimper.

“Did he break the skin?” John asked fearfully; if Phillip had broken the skin, a bond could be slowly forming. Alphas were capable of taking on secondary mates, while Omegas were bound to one and only one Alpha for as long as the Alpha lived…unless the Alpha chose to break the bond. Bond breaking was strenuous and could kill the Omega because of how taxing and mentally damaging the process was, and so John was terrified of having been force bonded. The paramedic took out a magnifier and after cleaning the area she deemed that it was just a bruise.

“You’re lucky Mr…” she trailed off, looking between Sherlock and John.

“Watson.” John clarified; she had obviously noticed the lack of a bond mark, and while he was technically John Watson-Holmes now to show Sherlock’s (for lack of a better term) ownership, he went by Watson.

“Watson. Okay. Well I don’t think there is any reason for you to go to the hospital. You’re not showing any signs of a concussion and you weren’t forcibly bonded, so I’d say just let your Alpha know you’re okay and take a few days to recover.” the paramedic said, business as usual back on her face. Sherlock found that he rather liked her, and made a note to have Mycroft look into hiring her on the estate. There was a family doctor, but Sherlock found the man to be an idiot and terrible in emergencies, like some GPs. Combined with the fact that he didn’t live on the actual estate, the man was useless in Sherlock’s book.

-0-0-0-0-0-

The second John was in his room, Sherlock came storming in. The door was slammed shut and locked behind him, a strange sort of fury burning in his pale eyes. John looked up at Sherlock in confusion and uncertainty, and the Alpha pushed him against the door.

“Sherlock.” John said weakly, because while he wasn’t nearly as afraid as he had been when Phillip had him pinned, Sherlock was still surprisingly strong and John’s heart skipped a few beats.

“He almost took you from me. You’re _mine_ John, he can’t have you. Nobody can have you.” Sherlock growled, burying his nose into the soft curve of John’s neck once again. This time John was the one who went weak, letting Sherlock hold him up with his body weight, pressed between the Alpha and the door.

“He didn’t take me. It’s alright Sherlock.” John whispered, eyes falling shut as Sherlock scented him again. Sherlock remained there for so long that their scents started mixing in a scent induced pre-bond, and when that happened Sherlock let out a tiny whimper before licking at the bruise Phillip had left. The slide of Sherlock’s tongue against John’s skin drew a gasp from the Omega, and the gasp evolved into a moan as Sherlock nibbled gently on the skin there.

“I changed my mind John.” Sherlock purred, moving beyond the mark Phillip had left to nip and kiss up John’s neck. “I will bond with you. Not now, but when we’re older…you are _mine_.” Sherlock continued possessively, emphasizing the word ‘mine’ with a sharp nip to the soft skin just below John’s ear. John moaned again lightly and nodded almost sleepily.

“O-okay. B-but no kids. Not until I’m done school at least.” John stammered, colour rising high in his cheeks. That seemed to snap Sherlock out of his possessive haze, because his body softened until his forehead was pressed to John’s.

“John, I never thought I would want to do this.” Sherlock whispered.

“Do what?” John whispered back, dark eyes meeting light. Instead of answering, Sherlock tipped John’s chin up and brought their lips together in a sweet, clumsy kiss that had both of them sighing in contentment.

“That.” Sherlock grinned, letting his hand rest on John’s cheek.

“I didn’t either.” John admitted with a faint chuckle. Sherlock shook his head fondly.

“You’re ruining my reputation as a heartless sociopath John. You monster.” Sherlock teased. John laughed a little louder and brought his hand up to the back of Sherlock’s neck.

“Now we both know that was never quite true. You always had a heart, you just guard it so fiercely that nobody else gets to see it.” John murmured.

“You snuck around those defences rather quickly John Watson.” Sherlock said in reply. John smiled at that, his eyes crinkling in the corners just the way Sherlock liked.

“I told you I was clever.” John whispered before pulling Sherlock down into another slow, sweet kiss.


	7. Rush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so honestly my readers are AMAZING. I have gotten so many hits, comments, and kudos. I love all of you. Also, you need to stop being telepathic because a lot of comments I get about things that maybe people were uncomfortable or uncertain about are being addressed within the chapters coming up...  
> I did want to make it known that the Omega/Alpha thing where Omegas can only have one mate while Alphas can be polygamous...that's going to change. I said in a comment that in my version of Omegaverse that is based off of incomplete data/poor research. That isn't going to be addressed in this chapter, but rather the next.
> 
> Sherlock continues his possessive streak, although he's adorably derpy and unsure of himself. *gives Sherlock a cookie*
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Frottage, although I kept my descriptions rather tame for this one.

The next morning John awoke to the gentle dip of his mattress. Furrowing his eyebrows in sleepy confusion, he rolled over to see Sherlock lying beside him, staring at the ceiling.  

“Morning.” John yawned, rolling onto his side. Sherlock grunted in reply and John immediately knew he was thinking, possibly even beginning to enter his mind palace. This was odd, because Sherlock often wanted John further away from him when he was thinking. However, John wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth so he moved to go brush his teeth and use the bathroom. Sherlock immediately flung an arm out to keep him where he was.

“No, stay.” Sherlock demanded. John rolled his eyes but a smile twitched at the corners of his lips.

“I’ll be right back; I’m just going to go use the bathroom.” John explained, drawing a huff from Sherlock, who lifted his arm so John could get up.

-0-0-0-0-0-

The whole time John was in the bathroom, Sherlock was mulling over a problem…a problem that went by the name of John H. Watson. Never before had Sherlock felt so possessive, so driven by primal instinct, and it was infuriating and fascinating at the same time. He had scented John last night, kissed him, told him in no uncertain terms that he was going to bond with him…but Sherlock wasn’t sure now that the haze of possessiveness was over. Everything was uncertain without the fear and pain caused by Phillip’s sharp words and violation of John’s safety. Sherlock didn’t even notice as John padded back into the bedroom and got back in the bed, smelling like minty toothpaste and tangy hand soap.

“What’s wrong?” John asked, yawning slightly and curling up beside Sherlock. Sherlock looked over at John, and he sighed.

“You.”

“Me?”

“I don’t know what to do with you John. You’re an anomaly. When Phillip attacked you I was…terrified of losing you. I scented you, I kissed you, I vocally claimed you, but now…that is all so confusing. I gave into my instincts and I never do that.” Sherlock grumbled, and John tried not to let the hurt show on his face.

“So you don’t want me then?” John questioned. Sherlock groaned and tugged at his hair.

“I don’t know, that’s the thing! Before I was so certain of myself, I knew what I was, who I was, what I did and didn’t want, and then _you_ have to come here with your jumpers and your big eyes and your hidden talents and throw everything for a loop. You are the biggest puzzle I’ve ever been given and I can’t seem to figure you out.” Sherlock explained, almost ranting. This made John chuckle, and he shifted so he was curled into Sherlock’s side.

“Hey…we’ve got a while. A little over a year until you turn eighteen, and you don’t even have to decide then. I’m not going anywhere. Legally, I can’t, and honestly, I don’t want to. You can figure this out as quickly or as slowly as it takes you…I’m not going to jump your bones on your eighteenth birthday and demand to be bonded right there over cake.” John said, and this drew a surprised but happy sound from Sherlock, who for some reason threaded his fingers through John’s sleep mussed hair. John leaned into the gentle touch and sighed softly. “We’ve got all the time in the world.” John murmured.

“John?”

“Hmm?”

“We should date.”

-0-0-0-0-0-

The words made John look up in surprise, but when he saw the flustered yet serious look on Sherlock’s face, he grinned broadly and nodded. “I’d like that.” John said, and this brought a smile to Sherlock’s face as well.

“Good. It’s settled then. We can date until such a time that we decided whether or not to bond.” Sherlock breathed, relief evident. John scooted up so that his head was next to Sherlock’s.

“If I’m dating you, that means I get to kiss you, right?” John asked quietly. Sherlock was surprised by the change in position and the warm words practically whispered against his ear. He turned to look at John and swallowed roughly when their noses brushed just from the motion.

“I would think so, yes.” Sherlock croaked, and John grinned in a way that was almost predatory. Sherlock’s heart skipped a beat as the Omega closed the gap tantalizingly slowly, and he sucked in a sharp breath of surprise when those soft, pliant lips pressed against his own.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Kissing was so different without the haze of possession and fear distracting him, and Sherlock felt a peculiar warmth flooding his body, making his toes curl up and his hand flutter to John’s side. Following instinct, Sherlock let his lips mould to John’s, and both teens immediately sighed in contentment. They lay there for what could have been hours or a few seconds, Sherlock couldn’t tell because his brain had effectively decided to take a holiday, just exchanging soft, gentle kisses. Then there was a sudden shift, and the kisses grew harder, more needy, neither teen knowing whose tongue had darted out first to brush against a bottom lip, although it was Sherlock’s lips that parted first to allow the other teen to explore his mouth. The taste of the Omega on his tongue did things to Sherlock that he couldn’t explain, and he moaned softly as his hand slip up John’s body to tangle in soft blond hair. Encouraged, John nibbled slightly on Sherlock’s bottom lip and Sherlock gasped before plunging his tongue into John’s mouth to perform a similar exploration. He found that a gentle swipe of the tip of his tongue right against the roof of John’s mouth, just behind his front teeth, made the Omega squirm with pleasure.

The boys rolled, and Sherlock felt his heart stop when he looked up to see John above him, already dark blue eyes even more dark. Sherlock wanted to nip and suck at John’s kiss swollen lips, trace the faintest ghost of stubble along John’s jaw with his tongue, taste where he could see the Omega’s pulse fluttering in his neck.

“Oh god.” Sherlock whispered, reaching up to bring John down for a slow, languid kiss. Running on gut instinct alone, John rolled his hips slightly, eliciting a groan from Sherlock. Wanting to hear that sound again, John repeated the movement and felt the Alpha’s strong hands clamp down on his hips.

“Not good?” John panted, their foreheads pressed together.

“No, good doesn’t do it justice. Fantastic.” Sherlock replied, voice deep and hoarse with sudden, shocking arousal. Sherlock’s mind palace was in ruins, destroyed by this unbelievable monster that was lust. Sherlock had thought himself above such things, but with John there kissing him, rolling their hips together so sweetly, Sherlock knew then and there that he had made a serious miscalculation. He was above such things as long as he didn’t have a partner who was on his level. For every bit of genius Sherlock contained, there was craftiness, cunning, and bravery in John. John’s refusal to give up met Sherlock’s inability to back down, but John was also kind enough to make compromises. Everything about John matched Sherlock, and suddenly he saw why their parents had decided to promise John to him in the first place. “You are fantastic.” Sherlock whispered, drawing a blush from John that had the Omega tucking his face into the curl of Sherlock’s neck.

“You’re not too bad yourself.” John whispered, pressing his lips to the soft, tantalizing column that was Sherlock’s throat. The kiss kicked Sherlock’s body back into gear and Sherlock rolled his hips up to meet John’s. Both teens gasped as their erections brushed, spikes of pleasure racing up their spines even though they were separated by layers of clothing. Lips collided once again in heated desperation, gasps and groans emerging as hands slipped under shirts, shirts hit the floor, trousers were tugged at and slipped off, and finally, _finally_ , pants were deemed unnecessary.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Sherlock stilled when his thumbs hooked into the elastic band of John’s pants, and both teens took harsh, shuddering breaths.

“Sherlock are you okay?” John asked softly, noticing the bewildered expression on Sherlock’s face. Sherlock looked up at John and smiled a bit.

“Just…surprised.” Sherlock admitted, sliding the material down John’s legs and moaning softly in appreciation as he took in the Omega naked for the first time since they had met and Sherlock's mind wasn't being overrun by the need to protect, to care for, the first time he had ever looked at John sexually. John blushed and smiled back, slipping off of Sherlock’s lap only long enough to take the Alpha’s pants off. When John straddled Sherlock’s hips against, both teens took deep breaths. Then Sherlock pulled John in for a long, sweet, languid kiss and rolled his hips up. The slide of their bare erections against one another made Sherlock’s spine feel like a puddle of molten goo, and John whimpered into the kiss and returned the movement. Soon they were biting at each other’s lips, sucking harsh love bites into each other’s skin, Sherlock’s over the bruise Phillip had left to replace it with his own mark, exchanging hot breaths since they were too far gone to even attempt good kisses. They rutted against each other desperately, desire and need coiling low in their bellies until John let out a wail into Sherlock’s mouth and Sherlock moaned as something hot and thick splashed up their stomachs, turning John into a limp, panting mess of hormones and pleasure. Two more rolls of their hips and Sherlock was shuddering right along with John, stars practically exploding behind his eyes as he came with a shout that was only muffled by his teeth sinking into John’s shoulder.

-0-0-0-0-0-

After two very long, regrettably separate showers, John made his way down to the kitchen. Mycroft looked up at him and smirked, and John’s face turned red.

“Have a good morning John?” Mycroft drawled, and John glared at him.

“Oh come off it, how do you know?” John replied, not even bothering to deny it because things were impossible to hide from the Holmes brothers.

“You have three love bites, and contrary to popular belief, the walls of this house are not exactly soundproof.” Mycroft said with a smirk. John blushed furiously, but ignored Mycroft in favour of making tea for himself and Sherlock. Sherlock came sauntering into the kitchen a few moments later, accepting the cup of tea that John handed him and even going so far as to shove a piece of toast in his mouth. Mycroft gaped at that, but was largely ignored as the other Holmes Alpha settled at the kitchen table and swiped the newspaper out of his hands. Sherlock’s eyes moved quickly, reading the headlines but skipping each one he found dull. John settled down next to Sherlock and tucked into his own breakfast, some eggs and toast, but was quickly distracted as Sherlock spit out his tea almost comically.

“What the hell?” John asked, narrowly avoiding the spray. Sherlock slammed the now damp paper down on the table and pointed to the headline STAR SWIMMER CARL POWERS DIES DURING RACE.

“The idiots at the Yard are calling this an accidental drowning…John, get your coat.” Sherlock said.

“Wait, what?” John asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Get your coat. We’re going to London.”


	8. Case

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I really, REALLY changed the Carl Powers murder for the sake of this fic. Also, the details aren't incredibly in depth because I don't want to have to bs all of the brilliant details of Sherlock's thought process. 
> 
> I am now over 7,000 hits, over I00 comments, I've got 48 bookmarks and I'm almost to 200 kudos. HOLY CRAP GUYS. Honestly, you readers are the best part of writing this fic. You make it so much more enjoyable because it is nice to know that people enjoy what I write. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for being wonderful. Brilliant. Fantastic. Amazing. Every adjective possible. This fic is nowhere near done, so I hope you all stick by me :3

“Sherlock, we can’t just saunter into a poll where somebody _died_ yesterday.” John said, rushing to keep up with the Alpha as he swept down the London streets like a hurricane.

“Nonsense John.” Sherlock huffed, turning a corner. They came up to the pool, where a few officers were standing outside chatting quietly. They eyed Sherlock and John warily, confused as to why the teens were there.

“Kid, you can’t go in there.” one of the constables said, moving to bar Sherlock’s path as Sherlock approached the door. John felt a stab of panic when he saw Sherlock’s shoulders begin to shake, and he placed a comforting hand on Sherlock’s shoulder, confused.

“I-I just…I came to c-collect C-Carl’s things.” Sherlock stammered, and John just barely avoided gaping at the Alpha’s acting skills. The constable’s face softened and he sighed.

“Sorry kid, but Carl’s things were picked up this morning.” the constable said, blue eyes looking a bit sympathetic.

“His shoes though. H-his mum said th-they forgot his shoes.” Sherlock said, hiccupping a bit. The constable made a confused face and then shook his head.

“Tell you what…go inside and talk to Sergeant Lestrade. He should be able to help you out.” the constable said, shooting Sherlock a sad smile and moving aside.

“Told you.” Sherlock muttered out of the corner of his mouth as they walked in.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Lestrade was a very confident, sharp Omega with deep brown eyes and silvery black hair. Those soft, warm eyes narrowed when the two teens walked in, and he tucked his notebook into his breast pocket.

“Sorry boys, but I can’t let you in here. I don’t even know how you got in here in the first place.” Greg said. Sherlock’s eyes flickered briefly over the man, who wasn’t in uniform. _Detective Sergeant Lestrade_ Sherlock mused. _They should teach the constables to be more specific._

“We’re here to collect the rest of Carl’s belongings.” Sherlock said, his voice deceptively soft. Lestrade’s eyebrows furrowed and his stance opened up ever so slightly.

“All of Carl Powers’ belongings were collected this morning.” Greg replied, obviously choosing his words carefully as his curiosity was written all over his expressive face.

“Not his shoes. We spoke to Carl’s mother this morning. His belongings were rather prominently placed on the coffee table in the sitting room, but there were not shoes with the clothing he wore to the meet.” Sherlock said, the guise of a mourning friend immediately vanishing. John’s eyes widened and Greg’s eyebrows rose.

“Maybe she put them elsewhere.” Greg suggested.

“We asked if she had. It was then that she realized Carl’s shoes hadn’t been given to her with the rest of his things. Distraught, she requested that we come fetch them.” Sherlock said, giving Greg a pointed look.

“Well we don’t have any shoes.” Greg almost snapped, frustrated and confused as to why this young Alpha had such a complex. “ _Oh.”_ he whispered suddenly, eyes widening in realization. “We don’t have any shoes.”

-0-0-0-0-0-

“Carl Powers, age seventeen, bonded Alpha, being scouted for the Olympic swimming team…strange that he would just drown. I don’t know why we didn’t think of it before.” Greg said, reading off the beginning bits from Carl Powers’ file. Sherlock was lounging in a chair with his feet up on the table of a conference room where the teens had been brought after Greg argued with the Superintendent for about a half hour. Eventually the Superintendent had caved after Sherlock wowed him with his brilliance… _or it could have been how arrogant and annoying he was acting_ John thought with a faint chuckle.

“Bonded?” Sherlock asked, feet falling off the table as he sat bolt upright, eyes gleaming suddenly.

“Yes.”

“Where is his mate?” Sherlock demanded.

“Home. He’s a bit…off.” Lestrade answered almost reluctantly.

“No kidding. His mate just died. Most people _die_ when their mates die just from the emotional shock of the broken bond, Alpha or Omega.” John said, earning a confused look from both men.

“That’s just it though. He seemed off because…well…he was _fine_. Not a single tear shed. I mean, Powers’ mate wasn’t too fond of Carl because it was apparently a forced bonding, but still.” Greg offered as he flipped through the file. Sherlock suddenly looked like a predator that had caught a scent, and he leaned forward hungrily.

“What is the mate’s name?” Sherlock asked. Greg paused for a moment, pulling Carl’s information sheet out from the front of the file.

“Um…James. James Moriarty.”

-0-0-0-0-0-

James Moriarty was a demure looking Omega at first glance, a short wisp of a thing with chestnut hair and lean muscle. But he had brown eyes so dark that they were almost black, and those eyes were cold enough to elicit a shudder from John as the Omega answered the door.

“Can I help you?” Moriarty snapped, and Sherlock’s pale eyes scanned him quickly.

“You’re not upset.” Sherlock said.

“Sorry?” Moriarty asked, eyebrows peaking. Sherlock brazenly swept into the flat, which was neat but decorated with the mismatched furniture and second-hand items that so commonly decorated the flats of couples that had bonded early in life.

“You aren’t upset. Your mate just died and you’re being rude.” Sherlock said, his tone clearly stating _don’t you dare bore me_.

“I don’t see how my emotional status is any of your damn business. Get the hell out of my flat.” Moriarty said, his voice calm but his eyes glinting dangerously. John got the chills and inched closer to Sherlock on instinct.

“Oh, but of course you’re not upset. He abused you.” Sherlock breathed.

“Sherlock, I could’ve told you that.” John muttered, looking at the rather obvious shiner the other Omega had. There were hand shaped bruises around Jim’s wrists, and he limped ever so slightly as he walked towards the duo.

“Yes, Carl abused me. Not so common in forcibly bonded couples.” James snapped.

“Really?” John asked.

“Yes. The Alpha often feels the need to constantly reassert possession and dominance when their mate was forced to bond because there is not emotional attachment prior to the bonding, and therefore no reason for the Omega to try and walk out.” Sherlock explained almost irritably before stepping towards Moriarty. “But you…even without that emotional bond you should be experiencing severe trauma. Convulsions, illness, emotional distress…everyone who loses a mate goes through that, even with a forced bond…but you’re fine.” Sherlock continued, circling Jim and eyeing him as if he were a slab of meat instead of a person. Jim shifted and rolled his eyes.

“Thank you for stating the obvious. Now, if you have nothing interesting to say, I suggest you leave.” James growled.

“The only time a person doesn’t suffer trauma like that is when they break the bond with their mate themselves.” Sherlock murmured, and then his eyes widened. “Oh you clever, clever thing.” Sherlock breathed in amazement. Jim’s lips furled upward into a devilish smirk, and that smirk made John want to run screaming.

“Figured it out, did you? I knew you would Sherlock Holmes. I’ve read your website. I’m not the only clever thing in the room.” Jim purred, touching Sherlock’s chest lightly. The Alpha took a step away from Jim but continued to stare at him with fascination. John felt jealousy beginning to boil in his chest. Sherlock was _his_.

“Sorry, but what did you figure out?” John asked, his tone obviously irritated. Sherlock turned and looked at John as if he just remembered that the other Omega was even in the room.

“James waited until his Alpha was in a dangerous situation and then severed the bond. Witnesses stated that Carl had some sort of fit in the pool.” Sherlock explained.

“Convulsions brought on by the mental pain of the bond being torn.” John murmured.

“Exactly.”

“But I thought Omegas couldn’t…” John trailed off, looking both irritated and confused.

“Oh, you and I are just as strong and as capable of severing a bond.” Jim smiled, stepping next to John and leaning an arm on his shoulder. He leaned in, and John shuddered when he felt soft lips against his ear. “They don’t want people to know that Omegas aren’t delicate little flowers that need to be locked up. The Alphas see us as pets, sex toys…but you and I both know we’re much more than that. I can see that you’re smart. Not as clever as lovely Sherlock over here, but smart. Strong too. Keep that in mind for when that Alpha bites you. Because he will, I can see it in his eyes. You can destroy him like I destroyed Carl.” Jim whispered. John felt bile rise in his throat at the thought of causing Sherlock any kind of pain, and he slipped out from under Jim’s arm.

“I think we got what we need.” John said weakly before dashing from the flat. Sherlock shot Jim a significant look before racing after John.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Sherlock found John three blocks down, emptying his stomach in a side alley.

“John…are you alright?” Sherlock asked almost awkwardly, unsure of what to do.

“Just peachy.” John replied sarcastically before heaving again.

“What did he say to you?” Sherlock asked. John repeated what Jim had said verbatim and Sherlock’s face grew dark and dangerous.

-0-0-0-0-0-

“He’s gone.” Greg sighed when he returned to NSY a few hours later.

“What?” Sherlock growled.

“He’s gone. The flat was cleaned out, his bank account emptied, not a trace. We haven’t even been able to pick him up on CCTV.” Lestrade explained. Sherlock let out a howl of frustration.

“How could you lose him?! I handed him right to you!” Sherlock cried, and John placed a calming hand on his shoulder.

“He’s clever Sherlock. If he could kill Carl without touching him, he can escape the police.” John murmured. Sherlock sighed and leaned into John’s touch a bit, calming as he breathed in the Omega’s woodsy scent.

“Look…thanks for the help. You’re pretty brilliant kid. I think you should seriously consider going to school for this sort of thing.” Lestrade offered. Sherlock snorted.

“I’ve got my plans. Stick to yours Detective Sergeant.” Sherlock scoffed before standing. “Come on John, we’re going home.”

-0-0-0-0-0-

“That was brilliant you know.” John said softly when they finally got back to Holmes manor. Sherlock had been stiff and irritated the whole way home, radiating Alpha pheromones and stewing in silent anger. His posture relaxed slightly and his lips twitched in the ghost of a smile.

“You think?”

“Yeah. I mean, I never would have noticed the missing shoes. All that stuff you inferred, about how Carl was extremely organized, meticulously neat…I think you blew Lestrade’s mind.” John complimented as Sherlock flopped down into his chair in front of the fire. John’s hand settled on the back of Sherlock’s neck when the Alpha moved so that his legs were hanging over the arm of the chair instead of resting on the floor and he started rubbing the tension out of the muscle there. Sherlock melted under John’s gentle yet firm touch.

“He doesn’t have much of a mind to blow.” Sherlock mumbled, eyes falling half shut.

“That’s not true. He’s pretty smart. And obviously very good at what he does if he’s a DS and an Omega. They usually won’t even let Omegas into the police academy.” John said, his hands moving from Sherlock’s neck to his shoulders.

“You make a valid point.” Sherlock mumbled. His eyes opened when he felt John’s face hovering over his own.

“Just so you know…um…I won’t ever do that to you.” John whispered. Sherlock’s eyebrows came together in a confused look before his eyes widened in understanding.

“John…” he began, but John pressed a finger to his lips in a silencing gesture.

“No. We’ve only known each other for a few months but you’ve become my best friend, and when we’re a bit older, you’re going to be my mate. I’m not ever going to change my mind about that. The very thought of hurting you like that literally made me sick.” John continued. Sherlock’s face softened in a way that John knew only he would ever get to see, and Sherlock’s hand came up to pull John’s face down. Sherlock caught John’s lips in a long, slightly awkward, Spiderman-esque kiss, and John sighed softly.

“I know John. And I swear I won’t do that to you. We may annoy each other, but I would never…you’re the only person who gets me.” Sherlock mumbled when they broke apart. Then he shifted so he was sitting properly in the chair and pulled on John’s hands. John moved and straddled Sherlock’s hips, cupping his face in his hands.

“You’re bloody amazing Sherlock Holmes.” John whispered.

“You’re a miracle John Watson.” Sherlock replied, and their lips came together sweetly. Soft kisses were exchanged, tongues exploring slowly, the kiss expressing trust and need, friendship and a not yet fully explored passion for each other that they knew was there but couldn’t understand yet. Sherlock’s lips moved to John’s neck were he gently sucked, marking John in a way that would be obvious, yet would fade with time. It was like a promise of things to come, a rough sketch drawn with broken blood vessels and gentle pressure before teeth and tongue would permanently tattoo Sherlock’s affections to John’s skin. John shivered and whimpered as Sherlock marked him, and his eyes were dark when Sherlock pulled away.

“Sherlock…” John murmured, bringing his lips to Sherlock’s neck. “Can I?” John whispered. While they were only love bites, most Alphas refused to let their Omegas mark their necks the way they did to the Omegas. Two way bond bites made the bonds stronger, but the fact that the bond mark was also a sign of possession made many Alphas unwilling to receive one.

“Please.” Sherlock croaked, eyes fluttering shut as John’s warm breath ghosted over his neck. John slowly kissed and licked up and down the pale column of Sherlock’s throat, finally closing his lips over the point where Sherlock’s pulse hammered hardest. He sucked and nipped, teasing until there was a love bite standing stark against the paleness of the surrounding skin. Sherlock moaned softly and shifted as John worshipped his neck, pupils huge by the time he opened his eyes again. “You are unbelievable.” Sherlock whispered, and then he pulled John in for a biting kiss, teeth and tongue tangling, a ferocious give and take. They both stiffened and flushed bright red when they heard a soft clearing of a throat.

“Terribly sorry. I needed to collect a few texts for a project I’m working on and I didn’t want to be subjected to witnessing you um…fight for dominance.” Mycroft said stiffly, colour high in his cheeks. He moved to the high shelves beside the window, plucked a few books off of them, and then vanished quickly.

“Fat bastard.” Sherlock grumbled, letting his head fall on John’s shoulder.

“Basically.” John laughed, kissing the side of Sherlock’s neck and snuggling into his side. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and they stayed like that until John’s legs fell asleep.


	9. Another Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a reason the shoes went missing and that I didn't explain it in the last chapter...muahaha, now entering...Mystrade. 
> 
> Chapter warnings: Sherlock and John going at it again. Because I had to make it up to them for Mycroft being a jerk earlier.

“Hello?”

“Yes, hi, may I please speak to Sherlock Holmes?”

“Who is this?”

“Um…this is Detective Sergeant Lestrade. I just had a question for him is all.”

“Sherlock will meet you in three hours’ time outside the café across from your office.”

“Uh, what do you m-“

*click*

-0-0-0-0-0-

Greg furrowed his eyebrows and ran a hand through his hair. The silken voice that had answered the phone was not Sherlock’s, but it held the same posh tone and accent, meaning it could only be family. Why Sherlock would be meeting him instead of speaking on the phone was an entirely different matter however.

“Oh well. Guess we’ll wait and see. Kid seems a bit odd anyway.” Greg murmured, spinning his chair away from the phone to dive back into paperwork.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Three hours later Greg stood outside the café shifting almost uncomfortably from foot to foot. A black sedan with tinted windows rolled up, and Greg wouldn’t have paid it any mind had it not been for the pretty beta woman who slid out, fingers glued to a blackberry.

“Detective Sergeant, please come with me.” she said, not looking up once. Greg snorted.

“Yeah right, like I’m going to get into a strange car with a person I don’t even know.” Greg scoffed, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up defensively as he spoke. The woman rolled her eyes and finally looked away from the blackberry to take out a badge. MI5. Greg sighed and then nodded, getting into the car.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Greg was escorted into a large, empty warehouse and he would have left, but then he caught sight of a tall, slender man with auburn hair leaning against an umbrella.

“Detective Sergeant Lestrade, so glad you could make it.” the man purred. _The voice from the phone_ Greg thought, and he immediately walked forward, curiosity burning deep in his veins. As he drew closer he could smell the pure Alpha scent on this man, domineering, fearless, strong…had Greg been an Omega with less self-control, he would have been on his knees from that heady scent alone. However, he had the necessary self-control and so he raised his eyebrows.

“Can I help you?” Greg asked almost sarcastically, and the mysterious man’s thin lips twitched up in amusement briefly, almost undetectably.

“Yes, you can actually. You received assistance from a young Alpha by the name of Sherlock Holmes today, did you not? His promised was also there.” the man questioned.

“Yeah, Sherlock came flying into the pool like a bat outta hell and presented some pretty good evidence…he’s brilliant.” Greg replied.

-0-0-0-0-0-

“And what, Detective Sergeant, was that evidence?” Mycroft questioned. He was trying very hard to appear cool and collected. Never before had he encountered an Omega that smelled so _intoxicating_ , and with all the coolness and swagger of an Alpha behind it.

“The missing shoes.” Greg murmured, and Mycroft smirked in triumph.

“What sort of murderer takes shoes that aren’t even related to his crime?” Mycroft asked. Greg’s eyebrows furrowed briefly in thought, and Mycroft wanted to kiss the crease between them aw- _stop it Mycroft. Ignore it. You don’t need an Omega._

“I don’t know. I mean…it would seem almost like a prize to me. If there wasn’t a real reason to take them.” Greg finally concluded. Mycroft nodded in approval.

“Very good Detective Sergeant. The Omega in question has been under our eye for a few months now. He’s shifty, very elusive…he’s been showing far too much brilliance for a boy his age and we caught wind of his blog a few months ago. He had written something about the simplicity of breaking into government websites. We eventually managed to close both the website and our security holes but James Moriarty is…well, he is a lot like Sherlock. But as you saw, he lacks the humanity that makes Sherlock less dangerous.” Mycroft explained, turning to brush an invisible speck of dust off of his collar before continuing. “He wanted an audience. He wanted to send out a little beacon to the underground crime world. James Moriarty may be young, but he is brilliant and he is here. Sherlock may be a fledgling…consulting detective, but Moriarty…he’s going to become a consulting criminal if we don’t catch him.” Mycroft finished. Greg stared at the Alpha for a long moment before nodding almost dumbly.

“So we catch this kid before he becomes a consulting criminal, whatever that is.” Greg offered.

“Exactly.”

-0-0-0-0-0-

John woke with a yawn, and the first thing he noticed was the fact that he was warm…unusually warm. He tried to roll over, but he was pinned down by a heavy weight. Blinking rapidly, he opened his eyes to find that Sherlock was curled up over and around up, face snuggled into the crook of John’s neck. A warm smile flooded John’s features, and he sighed softly in contentment. The sigh was what woke Sherlock, and his pale eyes flew open with a snap. Sherlock immediately bolted out of the bed, eyes wide and a faint flush flooding his sharp cheeks.

“John I…I’m sorry I didn’t…” Sherlock stammered, and John only chuckled as he sat up slowly.

“Sherlock it’s fine.” John said softly. “It’s all fine. Come here.” John continued, holding out his arms. Sherlock eyed him warily but walked back over to the bed and allowed John to pull him into a hug.

“I only meant to sit here for a few hours and then leave. I didn’t intend on falling asleep.” Sherlock admitted. John raised his eyebrows.

“Why?”

“Being near you helps me think. It’s…strange. I never thought I would grow dependent on somebody. Frustrating really.” Sherlock explained, looking both aggravated and sheepish in one go. John’s face softened and he chuckled, pressing a kiss to Sherlock’s sleep mussed curls. “I didn’t want to fall asleep.” Sherlock grumbled.

“I don’t mind Sherlock. You can sleep in here when you want, as long as it’s not around my heat.” John murmured, and Sherlock’s face grew confused and then delighted.

-0-0-0-0-0-

“I did sleep rather well.” Sherlock admitted reluctantly. John laughed, a warm, deep sound that had Sherlock’s body flooding with an affectionate warmth that befuddled the future detective. Sherlock had become more and more subjected to these feelings as of late; a pleasant tingle when John looked at him, warmth seeping into his bones when the Omega laughed, the electricity that zinged up his spine when they kissed or even touched. Sherlock didn’t know where to begin processing those things, so they were catalogued in his Mind Palace and labelled accordingly, all with a little star on the label reading ‘further research necessary’.

John did that _thing_ where he nuzzled up against Sherlock, nose brushing against the soft skin of Sherlock’s neck, the ghost of John’s stubble causing Sherlock to shiver and then cave to the will of the emotions running rampant in his once mechanical mind. “I’m glad you slept well.” John murmured, and it was all Sherlock could do not to shove him into the mattress and snog him senseless. _He’s adorable_ was the thought that came to mind, and of course Sherlock grimaced in revulsion. He did not do sweet, and calling John adorable was sweet. John noticed the grimace and raised an eyebrow.

“What?” John asked, making Sherlock blush.

“Just thinking.” Sherlock responded, wrapping his arms around John and holding him close. John snorted and shook his head.

“You never ‘just think’. What’s the look for?” John pressed, nuzzling into the soft spot behind Sherlock’s jaw with his nose. Sherlock sighed and then opened his mouth, clamping it shut again, scowling, and then finally speaking.

-0-0-0-0-0-

“I…think you’re adorable. Which is weird. Because I don’t think like that. Ever.” Sherlock explained, face flushed. John giggled; Sherlock’s face was so scrunched up in confusion that he looked like he was about to be sick.

“You’re looking rather adorable yourself right now.” John smiled, sitting up and nudging Sherlock over so the Alpha was laying on his back. Sherlock looked up at him, eyebrows still furrowed, and John kissed at the creases between the inky brows until they smoothed out. “It’s normal to think somebody you like is adorable. Cute. Sexy. Frustrating. Infuriating even.” John continued, tugging lightly on Sherlock’s curls when he said ‘frustrating’ and smirking slightly. Sherlock rolled his eyes at John’s implication but smirked back nonetheless.

“Oh?”

“Yep.” John breathed, and with that their lips were brought together. The kiss started out sweet enough, but the frustration that had built up from Mycroft interrupting them the previous night overwhelmed them eventually and teeth and tongues were introduced to the tangle. Sherlock moaned softly, arching up into the kiss as John rocked their hips together lightly.

“So which am I right now?” Sherlock asked with a smirk. “Frustrating? Infuriating?”

“Sexy. Definitely sexy.” John replied, swooping down to catch another kiss. Sherlock huffed a laugh against John’s lips before sucking on John’s bottom lip. The Omega groaned quietly and then Sherlock was rolling them over, his hands slipping up under John’s tee as he did so. John shivered at the sensation, loving how warm Sherlock’s long fingers were against his skin as the tee was pushed up. John’s own shorter, less slender fingers were tugging at the bottom of Sherlock’s snug v-neck; the only time Sherlock wasn’t in button-downs was when he was in pyjamas. Sherlock quickly ripped the shirt up over his head and threw it haphazardly across the room. John’s was quick to follow and then John was gasping as Sherlock’s lips closed over his left nipple. A flick of Sherlock’s tongue across the sensitive nub had John mewling, and Sherlock smirked and moved to the other one.

“Sherlock, what are you…” John began as Sherlock started to kiss down John’s abdomen. His eyes flew open wide as Sherlock hovered over the bulge in his pyjama bottoms, and he made an unintelligible noise as those lips pressed a warm kiss to the tip. Something in John was screaming for it, but the other part of him was confused. Alphas never did this, at least to John’s knowledge. When John voiced that belief, Sherlock scoffed.

“Don’t be ridiculous. The only reason an Alpha wouldn’t do this would be if they thought they were better than their Omega. Intellectually, yes, I am on a tier all on my own, but you are better than me in almost every other sense. I want to do this and unless you have any objections other than antiquated gender role beliefs, I would very much like to get on with it.” Sherlock said, and John couldn’t help but chuckle. There was Sherlock, looking delightfully debauched, lips swollen from their kisses and hovering over John’s frankly aching erection, delivering a lecture on gender roles. Sherlock’s eyebrows furrowed at the chuckle.

“You are a bloody miracle, that’s what you are.” John murmured, sitting up to card his hand through Sherlock’s hair. Sherlock hummed happily as John’s fingers ran through his hair, the motion so rapidly becoming commonplace and soothing. Such was the gift of an Omega; the ability to calm an Alpha with gentle touches and soft words…John was no different in this regard, except for the fact that he was so extraordinarily gifted in the realm of calming Sherlock down.

“The same could be said of you.” Sherlock replied after a long moment, and then John’s pyjamas and pants were being slowly tugged down John’s legs, falling to the floor in a heap. Sherlock kissed and nipped his way up John’s legs, and by the time his mouth was hovering over the tip of John’s cock, John’s legs were already shaking with anticipation. “My John.” Sherlock whispered possessively, and then John was gasping as he was engulfed in the velvety warmth of Sherlock’s mouth.

-0-0-0-0-0-

There was something about this that made Sherlock want to stay there forever, the frankly comfortable weight of John in his mouth, the taste of John, his _scent_. It was dizzying to the Alpha, and Sherlock had to take a moment to collect himself before remembering what he had looked up the previous night (he had planned this after being so rudely interrupted by Mycroft). He slowly bobbed his head once, and then twice, and after being rewarded with a shuddery groan from John he set a steady, unpredictable rhythm. John was writhing under him within moments, and Sherlock pinned his hips to the bed with a forearm to keep John from bucking and gagging Sherlock. John’s fingers found Sherlock’s hair once again, and a light tug had Sherlock moaning around John. The vibrations from the moan made John shudder and so Sherlock made small noises here and there just to elicit more delicious reactions from John.

“Sherlock. Sherlock!” John gasped in warning, and Sherlock looked up just in time to see John’s face contorting. Grinning wickedly, Sherlock sucked hard and flicked his tongue across John’s slit. He grimaced at the bitter taste as John’s seed flooded his mouth, but he swallowed instinctively and gently sucked and licked at John until the Omega was finished shuddering through the aftershocks. Then Sherlock was slithering up John’s body, tucking his nose into John’s neck.

“Jesus Christ Sherlock. That was…” John murmured, his eyes bleary with post orgasmic bliss.

“Yeah.” Sherlock answered, palming at himself almost desperately. Just as Sherlock moved to retreat to his own bedroom to satisfy his needs, John’s hand closed around his wrist.

“No. Let me.” John said softly, and Sherlock’s pyjamas and pants soon followed John’s to the floor. Since Sherlock’s feet were already on the floor, John slid off of the bed and settled between Sherlock’s knees. “I’m not going to be as good as you at this. I don’t think. I have a feeling you did research you bloody demon.” John smirked, and Sherlock grinned.

“You know me too well.” Sherlock purred in reply, caressing John’s cheek gently. John leaned into the touch briefly before kissing Sherlock’s knee. John copied what Sherlock had done, delivering well aimed kisses and gentle bites to the insides of Sherlock’s thighs. As his warm breath caressed Sherlock’s length, Sherlock sucked in a sharp breath of his own. A deep moan ripped its way out of Sherlock’s throat as John took him in his mouth, and Sherlock is soon writhing like John was only moments ago. Sherlock marveled at that for a moment; even when it comes to their bodies there is a beautiful sort of give and take. Short and tall, thin and stocky, and then _this_ , reducing each other to writhing messes of pleasure, shutting down each other’s’ brains so effectively that it doesn’t matter for a while who the genius is. When Sherlock comes, John swallows as well, and then they’re kissing again, slowly, shivering as their tastes mingle and then vanish.

“John…”

“Hmm?”

“You’re perfect.”

 "Yeah, you are too."


	10. Jim Strikes Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this is a bit of a filler...but it's still important! I haven't posted in a while because my computer broke and I just managed to get my hands on an HDMI cable that I could connect to my TV in my dorm...so sorry about the delay!

“Absolutely not Mycroft. I won’t do it.” Sherlock said, his arms folding across his chest. Mycroft growled in irritation and his pacing quickened.

“Sherlock, why can’t you cooperate for just once in your life?!” Mycroft finally cried, throwing his hands up in defeat. His face was flushed with anger and his eyes were glinting dangerously. Sherlock’s own eyes widened a bit in surprise; Mycroft was never emotional, and he never exploded like that. Just then the door to Mycroft’s study creaked open and John poked his head in.

“I heard shouting…is everything alright?” John asked, his face so beautifully expressive and this time wrought with concern. Sherlock wanted to purr because of the fact that John largely ignored Mycroft to inspect Sherlock. Mycroft huffed a bit in annoyance and ran a hand through his auburn hair.

“Everything is fine John. Please, return to your studies.” Mycroft said, but Sherlock glared at Mycroft venomously.

“Mycroft is trying to convince me to take a case for him, and is throwing a right temper tantrum since I’m not interested.” Sherlock clarified, and John sighed a bit as he stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him.

“What are the details?” John questioned. Mycroft stiffened a bit.

“None that I can relay to you.” Mycroft answered haughtily, not wanting to be shown up by his brother’s Omega.

“If you can’t relay them to me I can guarantee that Sherlock won’t take the case. “ John replied waspishly, and Sherlock smirked as an angry flush crossed Mycroft’s cheeks once more. Eventually the older Holmes nodded and sat down in the chair behind his desk.

“There has been a breach of security in one of our facilities in London. The Yard has done little to resolve this issue, and seeing as it is a top secret government facility…a facility that nobody even knows is government…we need Sherlock to go in and locate the breach.” Mycroft explained. John felt a spike of irritation at Mycroft’s lack of details, but nodded before turning to Sherlock.

“This is right up your alley love. Why won’t you take it?” John murmured. Sherlock glared over John’s shoulder at his brother. “Oh come on, just because Mycroft is asking won’t make it less enjoyable. Think of it this way…if you can find it and he can’t, doesn’t that make you all the cleverer?” John suggested. Mycroft’s face flushed a brilliant shade of red and he glared at the gutsy Omega, but for every inch of bitterness and anger that Mycroft’s face held, Sherlock’s contained glee and mischief.

“You make an excellent point John. Very well Mycroft. I will be ready to leave in three hours.” Sherlock said, and then he swept out of the room.

“You are an absolute menace John Watson.” Mycroft sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in a gesture that was far too aged for Mycroft to be doing.

“You helped bring me here.” John replied cheerily before slipping out of the room after Sherlock.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Sherlock crept along the interior of the government building, his movements lithe and graceful. Having been given full access badges by Mycroft, both teens went unnoticed in the bustling government office. John didn’t even want to know what sort of clandestine activities were taking place, and he tried his best to keep his eyes away from television screens showing black and white CCTV feeds and computer monitors loaded with government secrets.

“The only way that somebody could have possibly gotten into the building is the ventilation shafts…but how could they have gotten into them when the only way to access them is from the roof?” Sherlock mumbled darkly. John paused by the window and looked over at the building next to the office they were standing in.

“Sherlock?” John asked.

“Hmm?” Sherlock hummed in reply, a bit lost in his train of thought.

“What’s the building next door?” John questioned. Sherlock looked over, almost irritated by John’s inquiry, and shrugged.

“Just some run of the mill office building. Doubt it is of any importance.” Sherlock answered, his hands steepling in front of his mouth in an almost prayer-like fashion.

“Well I just noticed…it’s the same exact height as this building. The building on the other side is a bit higher, but um…do you think someone could clear the gap between the two? I mean, it might not be a far stretch with a running start.” John suggested. Sherlock’s eyebrows furrowed and John waited for him to wave off the thought with a mutter of ‘ridiculous John, really, what were you thinking?’ but it never came. Instead Sherlock’s eyes grew wide and his head turned comically slowly towards the building John had pointed out just moments ago.

“Just an ordinary office building. Nobody would ever notice a stranger going in, especially if they were a new employee. I doubt they have good security.” Sherlock breathed, standing slowly and moving towards John with an almost predatory smile on his face. “John Watson, you are the most brilliant, beautiful thing that has ever come into my life.” Sherlock whispered, kissing John’s forehead fiercely before darting down the hallway. “Come on John! We have a case to solve!”

-0-0-0-0-0-

John woke up seeing stars. His head pounded and his mouth was dry, and he couldn’t remember what day it was.

“Sherlock?” John croaked groggily, his throat hoarse.

“Sherlock isn’t here pet. It’s just you and me for right now.” a silken voice said, the faintest hint of an Irish lilt floating through the air. John immediately stiffened, his blood going ice cold.

“What do you want?” John asked, realizing that he was handcuffed to a pole and tugging at the chains of the cuffs until they bit into his skin.

“I wanted to have a little chat. You see, Sherlock can’t afford distractions. Especially not another Omega. He’s mine, you see. We’re a match made in heaven, Sherlock and I. Our minds can stimulate each other, and I know what makes an Alpha tick enough to satisfy his…other needs as well.” Jim purred, one pale finger stroking John’s cheek. John shivered and attempted to bite at Jim’s finger, earning him a severe slap across the face. Eyes tearing up with the sting and his face smarting, John growled dangerously at Jim.

“You’re wrong. Sherlock and I are good for each other.” John spat, tugging once more on the handcuffs.

“But are you? What happens when he gets bored of ordinary, dull, uneducated John Watson? Hmm?” Jim whispered, grabbing John’s jaw firmly.

“Sherlock dies.” a deep baritone said from the back of the room. John’s face lit up, and Jim’s lips furled into a dangerous snarl.

“Oh, you just made a huge mistake Sherlock.” Jim said, standing up straight. Sherlock stepped out from the shadows, his face impassive.

“I don’t think I’m the one who made a mistake here Jim.” Sherlock replied, but his mask slipped as Jim pulled a gun out from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pointed it at John. The delayed crack of gunfire echoed through the abandoned warehouse and John screamed in agony as a bullet tore through muscle, sinew, and bone.

“John!” Sherlock screamed as John’s world faded to black rapidly.


	11. Slipping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just took a look at my stats for this story and holy crap guys...thank you all so much for reading, leaving comments and kudos, and bookmarking. You make this worth it :3 
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Brief mentions of child abuse, brief mentions of alcoholism, mentions of miscarriage (NOT John), in depth discussion of bullying and depression/self harm. 
> 
> If those triggers are bad for you, I will leave this brief description: John becomes depressed after being released from the hospital due to the tremor the gunshot wound has caused (he cannot become a surgeon now). Sherlock discusses John's withdrawn behavior with his violin tutor, who explains what he did when his mate fell into a similar situation. Sherlock then approaches John and explains his story; how he was bullied as a child, how that bullying led him to self harm, and how he was put on medication for it after almost losing his life. The medication severely limited Sherlock's faculties and he grew emotionally worse instead of better. Once off the medicine, Sherlock improved dramatically thanks to Mycroft actually allowing him to solve puzzles and cases once more. Sherlock explains briefly what John did when he came into his life and John caves, asking Sherlock for help to deal with his own depression. 
> 
> If you or anyone you know is dealing with depression, there are resources available 24/7. Help is just a click or call away. Don't suffer in silence.

Sherlock’s mind went blank as a spatter of red careened out of John’s left shoulder, painting the concrete wall behind him with gore. John’s scream of agony only made the haze thicker, and Sherlock could only scream John’s name as the Omega’s eyes rolled back and he slumped over, blacked out from the pain. Sherlock launched himself forward, hands flying to cover the wound that was bleeding profusely. James took Sherlock’s moment of distraction and fled the building, knowing that an enraged Alpha was nothing to play with, especially one as possessive as Sherlock Holmes.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Sherlock ended up being sedated when John entered the hospital. He had taken to snarling and snapping at every nurse and doctor that approached John’s gurney, and so it was with great relief that the Alpha slumped over, a needle protruding out of the back of his right arm and a fierce looking Beta nurse standing behind him.

When Sherlock came to, he was lying in a stiff, unfamiliar bed. The harsh, blinding plainness of the room indicated hospital, and when Sherlock heard the low, steady beep of a heart monitor his deduction was confirmed. Head aching, Sherlock looked to his right to see John in the bed next to him, his usually robust, lively face ashen and grey against the stark white sheets of the bed. Sherlock scrambled out of his own bed, falling to the floor in his haste as his legs weren’t exactly done processing the tranquilizer. He somehow managed to pick himself up though, and with great effort he hauled himself into the chair beside John’s bed. His hand came up, and he stroked John’s cheek gently, his eyes wide with fear.

“He will survive his injuries, but he may suffer permanent nerve damage in his left arm.” Mycroft’s smooth voice sounded from the doorway. Sherlock’s head snapped towards the door, and he growled low in his throat at Mycroft, his possessive streak rising up once more. Then Mycroft’s words sank in, and Sherlock swallowed heavily.

“Nerve damage? But he wanted to be a-“ Sherlock began.

“I know. I’m sorry Sherlock.” Mycroft sighed, and for once in his life, Sherlock actually believed his older sibling. Mycroft was pale, and dark circles ringed his eyes. It was obvious that the government official hadn’t slept in the night that had passed, John in surgery and Sherlock under anaesthetics. Sherlock didn’t bristle when Mycroft pulled up the only other chair in the room and sat beside Sherlock.

“What do I do when he wakes up? How do I tell him?” Sherlock whispered. Mycroft sighed again and ran a hand through auburn hair.

“I’m not sure Sherlock…for once, you have more knowledge in the area than I do. Both sentiment and John Watson.” Mycroft said, and Sherlock let his head fall forward to rest on the mattress beside John’s left hand. Sherlock picked up that hand in his own, being careful not to jar the heavily bandaged shoulder. John groaned slightly in his sleep and Sherlock bit down on his lip until the metallic tang of blood filled his mouth.

-0-0-0-0-0-

“What?” John asked, his voice cracking and his eyes growing desperate.

“You may suffer permanent nerve damage in your left arm. We can offer you physical therapy and strength training, but I highly doubt you will ever be able to pursue a career as a surgeon with the intermittent tremor you’ve developed. I’m sorry.” the doctor explained, and John made a distressed noise, turning away from him. Sherlock’s lips rose in a snarl, and the doctor quickly darted from the room, the door shutting just in time to block out the stifled sound of John’s sob.

“Why? Why does the world just want to keep me from doing what I want to do?!” John snarled, burying his face in Sherlock’s neck. Sherlock could feel the hot sting of tears and John’s body shake with each suppressed sob, but he could also feel the rage radiating off of John. His dreams had been stolen from him once again by somebody other than himself. Sherlock held John close and pressed a kiss to soft blond hair.

“I don’t know John…but we can do the best we can. There’s a million different types of physical therapy; maybe one will help.” Sherlock suggested.

“No, it’s not _we_ can Sherlock. It’s me. I’m the one who got shot, I’m the one who lost their dream. Stop acting like this affects you!” John screamed, pushing Sherlock out of the bed with his right arm. Sherlock stared up at John from the floor, looking genuinely hurt for the first time in their relationship.

“Seeing you unhappy affects me John. To everyone else I may be cold and calculating, but to you…I actually care. When you hurt I hurt, and that will only become stronger if we bond. I want to help you.” Sherlock said before picking himself up and heading towards the door. John sighed and shook his head.

“Sherlock…wait.” John requested just as Sherlock’s hand fell on the doorknob. Sherlock turned his head and looked at John with carefully guarded eyes. “I’m upset. You’ve got to understand.”

“I don’t do emotion well John. You need to explain.” Sherlock answered. John nodded slowly and motioned for Sherlock to sit back down. Sherlock did so, but he sat in the chair as opposed to on John’s bed like he had been earlier.

“Imagine that your whole life you’ve been told that because you’re an Omega you can’t become a detective. Your one and only job is to make babies. But you’ve got the dream and you keep it close because it’s the only thing getting you through your father beating you…your sister is your only friend but then she loses herself in the bottom of a bottle just like your mum. That dream is what is keeping you together. You hold it close for yourself. Then you find out that hey, guess what, no school for you unless you bond and your mate permits it. There’s no way an Alpha would allow that. But then you meet your promised and it turns out that your promised is probably the best Alpha in the world; he gets you. But then he refuses to bond. Your dream is crushed again. And then, because you become close, he changes his mind. Hope returns, bigger and better than before. You cling to that dream with everything you’ve got, and now you have someone else holding it up for you too. But then some psychopath comes and takes it away forever with one pull of the trigger. That’s what I’m feeling right now.” John explained, his voice thick with emotion. Sherlock felt a lump form in his throat, and he had to swallow a few times before he was able to speak.

“But a gunshot wound to the shoulder wouldn’t prevent me from becoming a detective.” was the first thing out of his mouth, and Sherlock cursed his stupidity immediately. John growled low in his throat.

“Fine. Then he shoots you in the head and you regain all of your faculties but your sight. You’re blind. Try observing and deducing then.” John snapped. Sherlock imagined it for a brief moment, and the flash of fear and pain that welled up in his chest made him blink rapidly.

“John…I…” Sherlock struggled to find the right words.

“Exactly.” John said, voice distant as he looked away from Sherlock.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Sherlock screeched again and his violin tutor let out an angry sound.

“Sherlock, tell me what is distracting you or play the piece correctly! You’re better than this!” he demanded, his Russian accent becoming thicker with his agitation. Sherlock glared at Evgeni for a long moment before sighing heavily.

“It’s John. He is beginning to resent me. Ever since he was released from the hospital, he has grown distant. It’s become so severe that he won’t even stay in the same room as me for longer than five minutes.” Sherlock said. Evgeni’s face grew soft, and he motioned for Sherlock to sit in one of the plush chairs that occupied the parlour space where Sherlock had been taught music from a young age.

“Go on. Perhaps I can offer some words of advice…my own Omega resented me for a very long time when I was able to continue my musical career and he was not.” Evgeni said, settling down in the chair next to Sherlock’s. Sherlock sighed and put his violin and bow on the coffee table.

“John won’t speak to me…he won’t even look at me. He refuses to see the tutors we have hired to prepare him for university entrance exams for after we bond. He eats next to nothing, I can tell he doesn’t sleep well, and he just sort of…sits there.” Sherlock explained, his hands gesturing wildly. Evgeni listened intently and then rubbed his hand over his stubbly chin.

“I would recommend speaking to him. Tell him that you don’t understand his pain and that you never will, but that you are there to share burden with him.” Evgeni began. Sherlock smiled faintly as Evgeni’s English dissolved a bit; his English became broken in the moments were he was being the most serious. “John is not sure what to do. He lose everything that got him to this point with one action. Thinking of school hurt worse; he not sure if he can even become doctor now.” Evgeni continued.

“But there are many other forms of medicine John could study. He could be a general practitioner, an Omegaologist, an obstetrician…the possibilities are almost endless.” Sherlock responded, ruffling his hands through his hair in agitation. Evgeni smiled.

“Have you told him that? John wants to be doctor to help people. Surgeon is hard job, brave job, job not many Omegas have. But GP is also respectable. Obstetrician and Omegaologist help bring new life into world. Other types of doctors help surgeon. But for now, I think you need to concentrate on helping John heal.” Evgeni said. Sherlock tugged a bit on his curls and furrowed his eyebrows.

“But how do I do that?” Sherlock questioned.

“Talk to him. Ask him to tell you how he feel. Even if he is angry or resentful, John need to let it out. My Sacha, he break wrist in car accident and has to stop violin. Bending of wrist too painful. For long time he think he never play music again; he was so upset he miscarry baby. Then he finally let me in, talk about it. He go to therapist, and between talking to both of us, Sacha realize not the end of world. He learn piano and now he is going to join orchestra again. And baby come soon.” Evgeni revealed. Sherlock’s eyes widened in surprise, and he smiled broadly at his tutor.

“I am glad that Mycroft hired you back then.” Sherlock muttered. Evgeni chuckled and ruffled Sherlock’s hair fondly.

“I am too. I think you would be much crankier if you not have me since age of six.” Evgeni replied. Sherlock nodded.

“Without a doubt.” Sherlock admitted.

-0-0-0-0-0-

John didn’t move when the door to his bedroom opened. The room was dark and stuffy, and John hadn’t left in the two weeks since their return from the hospital. He was miserable, his dreams shattered, his hand never stopping its endless shaking. He wanted to curl up when he smelled Sherlock’s scent, bury his face in those inky curls and never come out. But he couldn’t. His body felt like lead, and he couldn’t move even as Sherlock settled down on the mattress beside him.

“John…will you talk to me? Explain what you’re feeling? Please?” Sherlock whispered, reaching out and picking up his right hand. John jerked out of the touch.

“Go away.” John demanded, his voice hoarse from disuse. He didn’t want to talk, especially when talking made him remember the wound even more vividly.

“No.” Sherlock said. “I won’t go away. You’ve been rotting away in here for the past two weeks by yourself and I won’t let you do this anymore. Depression suits you ill.”

John glared at Sherlock and his chest swelled with anger. “How dare you talk about my depression when I doubt you know even a fraction of what I’m feeling?” John hissed, finally caving. Sherlock wanted to smirk in triumph.

“Oh, I don’t? Do you want to hear the story of the little Alpha that couldn’t? Because it is a marvellous tale.” Sherlock hissed back, knowing that by winding John up and telling him the truth, he could get John to open up a bit.

“I doubt you know anything about my pain.” John answered.

“Once upon a time there was a little boy named Sherlock Holmes who was born into a rich and influential family that prided itself on Alphas and Omegas in their bloodline. Well little Sherlock was different. Special, if you will. Brilliant beyond even his older brother, and unbelievably observant. Well little Sherlock went off to school and the kids in school thought he was a freak, not only because he was an Alpha but because he could see all the little things they couldn’t. When a little girl in their class was murdered, little Sherlock solved the case at the age of eight but the police refused to listen to a child. He understood math and science and philosophy, he could read their lives in the wrinkles of their shirts, but Sherlock…Sherlock couldn’t understand emotions. His family rejected emotion. Caring is not an advantage they would tell him. So when Sherlock started to feel sad because the kids in school would push him down and throw dirt at him and eat his lunch, he started to hurt himself. It started out small, deliberately tripping into tables so that he could press on the bruises. Then it grew as he grew. He taunted the others until they beat him up, the freaky Alpha who wouldn’t fight back. He relished every black eye and bloody nose, the pain numbing the emotion until he couldn’t feel a thing. Sherlock learned to build walls, walls that locked the emotions away. But when those emotions would flood over the top of their container, Sherlock would make room by cutting his skin. Nothing serious, nothing life threatening, or so he thought. Then clever little Sherlock cut his leg too deep one day and got an infection. He almost died, and when he finally recovered he was locked up in a psych ward for a year. Big brother Mycroft swore Sherlock would never put himself in that danger again. Big brother Mycroft forbade deductions. No more cases, no more making little Sherlock stand out. Home schooling, therapy, medication. The medicine made Sherlock drowsy, foggy. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t think. But for some reason the pain grew that much worse.” Sherlock explained, his voice shaking and tears welling up as he told the tale. “Finally big brother Mycroft realized that the reason Sherlock was hurting now, so much worse than before, was because his mind was trapped in the haze of the medication he was being forced to take. As soon as he was off of it and his mind cleared, when he was allowed to work cases again, solve puzzles…little Sherlock became big Sherlock. He smiled and snapped and did everything else a proper fifteen year old Alpha should do. Then at sixteen Sherlock met an Omega. A beautiful, clever, fierce Omega that was determined to prove the world wrong. And Sherlock found a reason besides puzzles to live…but then that Omega got hurt, and instead of seeing that there were other options, other avenues to pursue besides becoming a surgeon, the Omega became like Sherlock had been.” Sherlock finished. John finally looked at Sherlock, and when he saw the look on Sherlock’s face, his barriers crumbled.

“Help me?” John whispered, throwing himself into Sherlock’s arms.

“Always.” Sherlock replied, rubbing John’s back as the Omega hiccupped.


	12. Journal and Jim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, unbeta'd and unbritpicked. I wanted to do something different with this chapter, so I wrote it in two different points of view...the italicized bits are supposed to be excerpts from John's journal, while the bold bits are from Jim's 'case file' (for some reason I imagine Jim keeping incredibly elaborate notes from all of his little schemes and such).

_It’s been over a month since I’ve been out of the hospital. Sherlock (of course) noticed that I had been getting depressed, and he finally reached out to me. I didn’t even really notice myself until it was too late. I’m glad he reached out to me when he did. Then the week after I went into another heat. It was worse than the others I’ve had here because my shoulder was still killing me. Still is actually. But anyway, after all of that was over Sherlock had me start talking to a therapist. She’s kind of…well, stupid actually. Sherlock thinks so too. But she told me I have to start writing a journal so I am. I guess I should write about what happened._

_The case was pretty straightforward; someone had broken into Mycroft’s office building and his team couldn’t locate the security breach so they wanted Sherlock to locate it for them. It was actually me who saw that the buildings on either side of Mycroft’s building were just the right height that if someone were to take a running leap they could clear the gap between the buildings. Sherlock of course raced off without a second thought, and I followed. Sherlock told me to go to the office building while he would inspect the other building. Thinking nothing of it, I went into the office building. I passed through the lobby pretty easily, which should have been my first warning that something was wrong with the place. I took the elevator up to the top floor, and when I got out, that’s when the shite hit the fan. The second I stepped out of the elevator I knew something was wrong. The top floor of the building was barren. No desks, no walls, just a concrete floor and the skeletal innards of the place. I crept towards the roof access, but then somebody whistled at me and I spun around to see him. That creepy Omega from the Carl Powers case…Jim Moriarty. He was smirking at me, almost as if I were a piece of meat to him._

_“Oh Johnny, Johnny, Johnny…going places we shouldn’t be, are we?” Jim jeered, and I felt ice water trickle through my veins._

**I relished how frightened Sherlock’s little Omega looked, all wide, dark blue eyes and messy blond hair. He was adorable, and he had no idea that I would be there. I set up the little trick for Sherlock, making sure that his pompous brother and that idiot from Scotland Yard wouldn’t be able to figure out how I had gotten into the building. Unfortunately little John figured it out for Sherlock, and I was rather disappointed, but I knew that the lure would work even better with sweeter bait in place.**

**“What do you want?” John asked, his voice almost cracking. He was afraid of me, which made my lips curl up with grim pleasure.**

**“I want my playmate.” I said, my voice singsong.**

_When Jim said playmate, I paused. What the hell did he mean playmate? For a second I was terrified, nauseated even, thinking that Sherlock didn’t want to bond with me because he was busy fooling around with older Omegas. But then I remembered that Sherlock had been just as confused by Moriarty as I had been, so I knew that he couldn’t have been. Not even Sherlock is that good of an actor. So I asked Jim what he meant. Jim went into this long, ranting monologue about how he had watched Sherlock grew up, fascinated by his brilliance. Jim apparently even went so far as to murder a little Omega girl that Sherlock had befriended when they were children (now the little quip about the murder he solved when he was eight makes sense) because her Beta father wanted to punish the Omega mother for cheating (Alphas and Omegas can only be born from Alpha and Omega parents…and Betas are sterile 9 times out of 10). He claimed that he was the only person who could “understand Sherlock’s tortured mind” and that I was “too dull and that Sherlock would tire of me eventually.” I can’t lie and say that those thoughts hadn’t crossed my mind before, but I was so angry by that point that I spit in Jim’s face. Which was probably a bad idea. Jim had a henchman with him, this big Alpha brute, and they tied me up to a pole in the centre of the room. Then they whacked me upside the head and I felt a needle go into my arm. Everything went black._

**Johnny looked so good all trussed up; even Sebastian had trouble fighting the urge to protect him with those doe eyes all scared. I gave Johnny a nice dose of tranquilizer, one that would cause momentary amnesia when he woke up too. Oh, the effects were delicious. He was so confused when he woke up, asking for Sherlock…poor little thing. He had no idea what damage an Alpha’s knot can do to him. Using what I had gathered from our earlier conversation, I made John squirm, telling him that Sherlock would grow bored of him.**

_Sherlock showed up after I woke up. I knew he would. Sherlock has a habit of being there exactly when I need him the most and not a moment before. I didn’t expect the gun though. Obviously. Jim was tired of playing games, and so he shot me in the shoulder. Everything sort of goes fuzzy after that, and according to Sherlock that’s when I passed out._

**After I shot the little Omega, I knew I had made a mistake. Sherlock, cold, calculating Sherlock, showed emotion. And oh did I know how dangerous an emotional Sherlock could be. I was practically choking on the possessive, protective pheromones Sherlock was pumping out, and I turned and ran before he could get his hands on me. I knew that Sherlock and I were going to be the end of each other, but I didn’t particularly care to die that day.**

-0-0-0-0-0-

“What are you doing?” Sherlock asked, walking into the library. He was incredibly pleased to see John out of his stuffy bedroom. Of course, the past week hadn’t been John’s choice, but before that seeing the Omega locking himself away was driving Sherlock mad.

“Writing. Ella told me it might help.” John replied, his pen still moving. Sherlock looked over John’s head to see the unsteady, shaking writing that came as a result of John writing with his right hand.

“She is useless.” Sherlock finally huffed after reading about what Jim had told John before drugging him. John rolled his eyes.

“I actually feel a little better.” John offered. Sherlock hummed in acknowledgement and moved around to the front of John’s chair to press a slow, gentle kiss to John’s forehead.

“I’m glad to see you out of your room John…and just so you know, I could never grow bored of you. You’re the biggest puzzle I’ve ever had the pleasure of being given.” Sherlock murmured. John blushed deeply and snapped the journal shut.

“Privacy Sherlock. It exists.” John huffed, but his eyes were dancing with a sort of joyful glee that had been absent for far too long. Sherlock grinned broadly and tugged the journal out of John’s hand.

“Yes, but I won’t ever let you walk around believing things that are simply untrue.” Sherlock said, cupping John’s jaw between his hands. John’s face softened immensely, and the faintest ghost of a smile appeared on his lips.

“That’s good to hear.” John murmured, and Sherlock chuckled quietly.

“I’ll tell you every day until you believe me.” Sherlock said, kissing John slowly. John hummed against Sherlock’s lips, and in that moment Sherlock felt the corners of John’s mouth turn up into a smile. It was small, but it was there. The first time John Watson had smiled in well over a month.


	13. Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay guys. I have been having computer issues. My screen shattered and it's been difficult getting anything other than school work done in the labs. I should be a little more productive once finals are over (May 13th...wooo!) 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has read, commented, left kudos, bookmarked, ect. I love you all.  
> As always, un beta'd, un brit-picked. Comments are lovely, please point out errors if found.

That night Sherlock awoke to the sound of small whimpers and the thrashing of legs in bed sheets. His eyebrows furrowed; ordinarily he associated those sounds with the distress of a heat spent alone. Sniffing the air, Sherlock knew that it was not a heat at all, and his concern grew. Knocking on the door that separated his bedroom from John’s, he waited a moment before slipping into the room. The room was dark, but there was a bit of moonlight filtering in through the window and so Sherlock could see John’s face contorted in fear. His heart lurched, and he slowly sat on the edge of the bed. John’s forehead was creased, his eyebrows pinching together painfully. The lips that Sherlock so often loved to make quirk up into a smile or catch in a soft kiss were downturned, the frown accompanied by another whimper. _Nightmare_ Sherlock thought. _A terrible one if the look of distress on his face and the movements of his body are any indication. He may injure his shoulder again if he keeps flailing like this_.

Reaching out, Sherlock smoothed his thumb over the lines on John’s forehead. “Shh, I’m here John, it’s alright.” Sherlock whispered, unsure if it would work. John’s face lost a little bit of the stress that aged it ten years and Sherlock smiled faintly. He continued to whisper sweet nothings and gentle reassurances as he stroked John’s cheek until at last John’s breathing slowed and he fell back into a peaceful sleep. A strong surge of pride flooded Sherlock at the thought that he had been able to calm his Omega without even waking him. Another flicker of pride streaked through him when he realized that John _was_ his Omega. Almost completely, and in a year’s time John would be his in every way. So lost in his musings, Sherlock didn’t realize that John had stirred until a hand tugged on his arm. Sherlock looked down to see a bleary, sleepy smile on John’s face.

“C’mere.” John mumbled, and Sherlock slowly lay down beside John. John immediately snuggled into Sherlock’s side, his fingers twining with Sherlock’s. Sherlock brushed a kiss over the top of John’s head and John quickly fell back asleep, not waking again until morning.

-0-0-0-0-0-

John blinked slowly when he woke up, the sunlight streaming in through the curtains and blinding him temporarily before he realized why he was so warm. Sherlock was sprawled out across his chest, snoring softly. His curls were jammed up against John’s nose and mouth, but instead of brushing them away John only breathed in the reassuring scent of Sherlock’s hair. _But why is he here?_ John wondered, not remembering the Alpha coming in in the middle of the night. Then John’s eyes widened. He had been having a nightmare, one involving Sherlock’s uncle and his father ganging up on John.

“Oh Sherlock.” John breathed, eyes going wide and soft with amazement and surprise. Nobody had ever comforted John when he was having nightmares; John’s father had forbidden his mother from doing so, saying that John would have to learn to be at least half a man somehow. John had been suffering from nightmares more and more frequently after the run in with Jim, and to know that Sherlock had been the one to soothe his mind even while John was sleeping made John feel a little strange…in a good way.

Sherlock stirred after a bit, and he yawned softly before looking up at John. By the time he looked up, John was struggling to contain the tears of joy and affection that were welling up in his dark eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Sherlock asked, mistaking the tears for sadness. He knew that John was still severely depressed, but that he was working through it with Sherlock’s help and the help of a therapist.

“Nothing…just…nobody’s ever been there for me when I was having a nightmare before.” John admitted quietly, and Sherlock smiled, brushing his lips over John’s slightly damp cheek.

“I didn’t know you were having nightmares or I would have been here sooner.” Sherlock murmured in reply, and John’s smile grew.

“You are something else Sherlock Holmes.” John sighed happily. Sherlock only chuckled and caught John’s lips in a sweet, good morning kiss.

-0-0-0-0-0-

2 Months Later

John was fed up. He was red and shaking with anger.

“I can’t take it anymore!” John screamed, slamming his fist against the bureau. Sherlock flinched, having witnessed John grow more and more frustrated with his physical therapist until he shoved the man away and stormed out of the parlour where he had been having his sessions.

“John, calm down.” Sherlock said from the doorway, and John reeled around.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” John yelled, his face flushing even further. Sherlock’s eyes went wide, but he stepped into the room fully and shut the door behind him.

“You’re going to burst a blood vessel if you keep screaming like that.” Sherlock commented, hoping the snarky remark would shock John enough to calm him momentarily. It failed utterly.

“Well that would be bloody fantastic, now wouldn’t it? Just one more thing to go wrong with this stupid, useless body of mine!” John roared, his left hand trembling more severely than ever now that he was so worked up. He was beginning to limp again as well, and Sherlock wanted nothing more than to wrap the Omega up in his arms, smooth down his hair, and talk to him until he was better again. But Sherlock wasn’t a miracle worker, and he knew that John’s patience was wearing thin.

“John, there is nothing wrong with your…” Sherlock began.

“Nothing wrong? NOTHING WRONG?! I can’t hold a bloody pen without my stupid arm shaking. How am I supposed to become a surgeon?” John hissed venomously. Sherlock bit his lower lip and averted his eyes. “That’s right…I can’t! And you will never know what that feels like unless you go blind.” John added, and that was Sherlock’s snapping point.

“Maybe if you stopped feeling sorry for yourself instead of working with your therapists you would be progressing! I have spoken to your GP, your specialist, and both therapists. If you weren’t so mentally stuck on this tremor it would be gone and you wouldn’t be limping.” Sherlock shot back, and John reeled as if he had been physically struck.

“W-what?” John stammered. Sherlock clenched his jaw.

“If you weren’t mentally preventing your own recovery, you would be fine.” Sherlock answered stiffly. John’s whole body sagged, and he looked at Sherlock pleadingly.

“I don’t know how to do that.” John whispered. Sherlock sighed and raked a hand through his hair.

“We’ll figure it out John.” Sherlock murmured, finally crossing the room and pulling John into a loose hug. John let his head rest against Sherlock’s collarbone and he huffed a small breath.

“We always do, don’t we?” John asked.


	14. Tension

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long wait guys. My computer just got back today, and I had written out half the chapter before sending it to get repaired. Hope you enjoy!

Sherlock found John sitting on his bed a few nights later, looking out the window. The Omega was deeply immersed in his thoughts, that familiar crease forming over his brow and quirking his lips downward ever so slightly. Sherlock knew that John hadn’t noticed him walk into the room, and so Sherlock took the opportunity to walk quietly across the space between them and crawl onto the bed so that he was sitting behind John. John jumped almost violently when he felt Sherlock’s long legs slide so that they were around his own, his hips nestled comfortably between Sherlock’s thighs as Sherlock’s arms wrapped around John and pulled him so that he was resting with his back against Sherlock’s chest.

 

“What are you thinking about?” Sherlock asked. John sighed softly and snuggled back against Sherlock.

 

“What you said to me before. That I’m the only thing holding me back.” John murmured after a moment. Sherlock nodded and let his chin come to rest on John’s right shoulder.

 

“And?”

 

“You’re right. This whole time I’ve been thinking ‘oh, I’m never going to heal properly, that bullet tore my shoulder up, I can’t become a surgeon, this tremor won’t stop’ and…well…I’ve been sitting here for a while wondering what you would do if it were you in my place.” John explained. Sherlock smiled a bit and arched a brow.

 

“Your conclusion?” Sherlock asked.

 

“You would look at your hand, say ‘stop that trembling, it is unnecessary and highly illogical’. And then your hand would stop.” John said with a grin. Sherlock looked down at John’s left hand and smiled more broadly when he saw it wasn’t shaking against his thigh.

 

“I told you.” Sherlock whispered proudly, kissing the spot under John’s ear. John made a soft, happy noise and turned so that he could catch Sherlock’s soft lips with his own.

 

“I know.” John grinned, and then he pulled Sherlock in for a long, deep kiss. Sherlock growled low in his throat and quickly manoeuvred them so that John was propping himself up on his hands with Sherlock straddling his waist.

 

“I’m proud of you John.” Sherlock whispered between kisses, nuzzling their noses together. “I knew you’d figure it out. I couldn’t be the one to figure it out for you, but I knew I could at least try to push you in the right direction.” Sherlock continued, peppering kisses down John’s jaw and then lingering at the spot where John’s scent was strongest because John let out delicious little sounds when Sherlock kissed him there, and those sounds made Sherlock want to both rip off his clothes and hide John away forever to keep him safe.

 

“You’re brilliant. You really are.” John breathed as he let his arms give out, pulling Sherlock down on top of him and laughing quietly.

 

-0-0-0-0-0-

 

Mycroft eyed John and Sherlock warily the next day. Sherlock was demanding they be allowed to travel to London to do some exploring, and by exploring Mycroft knew that Sherlock had found a case. John was sitting there, looking pleadingly at Mycroft, and the innocent half pout would have worked if the Omega’s neck hadn’t looked like it had gotten in a fight with a vacuum cleaner and if Sherlock’s eyes weren’t still half glazed with arousal from their frankly noisy morning romp.

 

“You’re not going.” Mycroft said again firmly, and this time Sherlock growled low in his throat.

 

“I don’t understand why not!” Sherlock cried, agitation mounting. Mycroft sighed and put his face in his hands.

 

“You know why. It is too dangerous. After the last case, I cannot risk allowing you to go into London like this anymore.” Mycroft replied, and Sherlock growled low in his throat.

 

“Last time was a fluke.” Sherlock said. Mycroft’s face suddenly grew red and he stood up so quickly that his chair flew out from under him and toppled over a few feet away.

 

“A fluke that almost got your Omega killed! And if anything had happened to John, I do not even want to know what would have happened to you. Believe it or not Sherlock, I care about you. I will not allow you to go running into danger like that!” Mycroft roared, and with that he stormed out of the kitchen. A few moments later a door slammed on the floor above them and Sherlock let out a long, suffering sigh.

 

“It was _his_ case. This is different. This one is for the Yard.” Sherlock moaned, letting his head fall forward so that it thumped against the table. John reached out and carded a hand through Sherlock’s unruly curls, soothing him wordlessly.

 

“Just give him some time Sherlock. Eventually he will stop being afraid and you can go on cases again.” John murmured, kissing the back of Sherlock’s head before going to make both of them a cuppa.

 

-0-0-0-0-0-

 

Greg stiffened when he heard someone enter his office uninvited; usually people knocked before walking in, allowing Greg to sweep away some of the more graphic evidence files just in case it was a secretary or someone else. The moment that heady scent reached his nose, Greg knew it was that Alpha again, Mycroft Holmes.

 

“Mr. Holmes, what can I do for you?” Greg asked, turning around slowly and trying not to look as irritated as he felt that this man was invading his space without so much as a knock when his younger brother would not even show up to look at the case Greg was stuck on.

 

“You have contacted Sherlock again.” Mycroft answered smoothly, keeping his tone level even though he was borderline furious with the Omega.

 

“Yes, I did. This case…it’s…getting more and more complicated by the minute, and with three dead already we don’t know what else to do.” Greg said, biting at his thumb in an agitated, nervous gesture.

 

“I would like it if you did not contact Sherlock in the future. If there is a case that needs his…expertise, you will contact me and I will decide whether or not it is appropriate for Sherlock to come.” Mycroft said, his tone cold and his eyes colder. Greg bristled at this and stood slowly.

 

“I’m sorry, but I was not under the impression that Sherlock was-“ Greg began, but one infuriated glare from Mycroft stopped Greg midsentence.

 

“Sherlock Holmes is not even seventeen years of age yet and you expect me, his _legal guardian_ , to just let him wander onto a crime scene in London like that?” Mycroft hissed, planting his hands on the edge of Greg’s desk and leaning forward in a show of intimidation and superiority.

 

“I think that you’re trying to coddle the kid when it’s obvious he needs to exercise his mind.” Greg snapped back, leaning forward to show Mycroft that he was not going to cave just because Mycroft was trying to use some Alpha intimidation techniques on him. Mycroft’s lip furled up in a silent snarl, and those ice blue eyes looked a bit cracked for just a slight moment.

 

“Stay away from Sherlock unless you want to lose your job.” Mycroft hissed, and with that he was gone. Greg sighed and ruffled his silvery hair in exhaustion. That was one potential solution to the case gone.


	15. Christmas, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Holmes family Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear readers. I apologize for the hiatus. I have been dealing with a lot of crap, and it had left me practically incapable of writing. I am doing much better now, and I am very excited for the next few chapters. This is a time skip since I wanted to move the story along. I hope you all enjoy it. A warm thanks yet again to everyone who has read, commented, bookmarked, left kudos, ect. Readers are the lifeblood of creative writing and when I see that people enjoy my work it makes me very, very happy. Even if it is fanfiction. Which is still baller. Pardon the blatant Americanism :P
> 
> As always, un-beta'd, un-Britpicked. Feel free to leave con-crit and point out any mistakes I may have missed in the final edit :)
> 
> A small note: Byzantium is a shade of purple. I wanted to use the most accurate term so that you all could envision the color I was thinking of...that and Sherlock would be the one person to know all the different shades of purple and their technical names.

_Two Months Later_

John sat in the parlour with a heavy chemistry text book in his lap, a notebook precariously perched on the arm of the chair he was sitting in and the fire crackling merrily in front of him. The clock on the mantle ticked quietly, having taken the place of the skull Sherlock had found and then placed there in October. Sherlock had “liberated” the skull from an oddities shop during a rare day trip to London; John later found out that the skull had been mislabelled as a reproduction and was an actual human skull. For some reason, John was not as bothered by it as he should have been. In fact, John had found Sherlock’s habit of speaking to the skull whenever John was asleep or not in the room to be rather endearing, and the two of them had taken to calling it Billy after John had read _Hamlet_ and then compared Sherlock to the main character.

 

There was a large tree sitting in the back corner of the parlour, blocking off some of the bookshelves there. In a fit of irritation, Sherlock had climbed up the shelves and removed each and every one of his and John’s favourites from those shelves and stacked them along the unreasonably thick banister blocking the metre and a half high drop from the elevated ‘second floor’ of the room. The skull now looked down upon the parlour, grinning creepily from its new perch atop the Christmas tree. Mycroft and Mummy had allowed John and Sherlock to decorate this tree on their own, seeing as they were the ones who spent the most time in the room, and Mummy immediately regretted the decision. John had given the tree its more traditional elements; fairy lights, glittering baubles in deep blue and crimson (Sherlock and his favourite colours), candy canes, and a few more decorate ornaments. Sherlock had decided to add crime scene tape to the tree (although he was careful to arrange it so it would not make contact with the fairy lights and either melt or catch fire), the skulls of a few small animals with strings glued to them for ornaments, and of course, Billy.

 

“John, you should get dressed. We’re expected in the dining room in an hour’s time for dinner.” a deep voice said from the doorway. John jumped slightly and turned as he stood, tucking his bookmark in between the pages of his text book and smiling broadly at Sherlock. Over the past two months, Sherlock had grown another 8 centimetres, leaving John at least 5 centimetres shorter and very huffy about the fact.

 

“Should I wear anything special or just my normal suit?” John asked, placing the text book and his notes on the desk to the side of the fireplace.

 

“Mummy took the liberty of ordering us both suits for the evening’s festivities. It has been placed in your closet with several different waistcoats. I believe her intention is for us to match, so select the colour you find most pleasing and I will dress accordingly.” Sherlock explained. John bit back a groan, knowing how big this dinner would be based solely on the fact that Mummy Holmes had purchased them _matching_ suits.

 

The two walked to their adjoining bedrooms in comfortable silence. They had been around each other so often now that they didn’t feel the need to fill the space with endless chatter. Their faintly mingled scents and the soft sounds of breathing were conversation enough at times. Of course, sometimes Sherlock would need to talk for hours on end just to still the screaming in his mind and John would listen and talk whenever Sherlock needed him. Sometimes John would need to rant and ramble about the darkness that threatened to swallow him, and Sherlock would be there with a listening ear and a comforting hug or kiss. That was the way their relationship had taken to working; they always knew what the other needed, and were always willing to give it.

-0-0-0-0-0-

 

John stared at the suit hanging in his closet and bit his lower lip. The material was soft, almost like silk, and was jet black. John toed off his trainers and wool socks, then shucked his jeans. He reluctantly slipped off his boxers and replaced them with a pair of snug pants that wouldn’t show under the material of the trousers, and then slipped on the trousers as well. He peeled off his jumper and slid the white silk shirt on, buttoning it up quickly and tucking it into the waistband of his trousers. His eyes then fell on the waistcoats. He thumbed through the colours; crimson, midnight blue, a deep purple, emerald green, charcoal grey, and a sunny, sky blue. John picked the deep purple and buttoned it up, taking the matching bow tie off of the hanger.

 

“I thought you’d pick the Byzantium.” Sherlock said, causing John to jump sky high once more.

 

“You really need to learn to make noise when you walk Sherlock. You scare me half to death.” John gasped, placing his hand over his hammering heart for a moment. Sherlock chuckled fondly and plucked the bow tie from John’s hand.

 

“You should just listen more closely then.” Sherlock replied, slipping the material of the bow tie under John’s collar and then tying it expertly. Once the bow tie was done, Sherlock held out John’s suit jacket and smoothed the shoulders out once John had slipped into it. “You look stunning.” Sherlock praised, touching John’s cheek gently. John blushed and finally allowed himself to look Sherlock over. He looked like an image out of a painting, alabaster skin looking like marble against Sherlock’s raven curls and the black material of the suit. The purple contrasted beautifully against Sherlock’s skin as well, and made the mysterious blue-green colour of his eyes pop. John’s breath caught in his throat and he reached out to cup the back of Sherlock’s neck.

 

“So do you.” John murmured, pulling him down to exchange a gentle kiss. Sherlock pulled away reluctantly just as the kiss took a more heated turn and chuckled.

 

“Come on. Mummy will have my skin if we don’t show up to dinner on time.”

 

-0-0-0-0-0-

 

The room was unusually quiet as John and Sherlock entered it. John gulped almost audibly, and wanted to squirm under the weight of at least twelve pairs of sharp, icy eyes in a variety of colours fixated on him.

 

“Good evening. I do hope we aren’t late.” Sherlock said breezily, and John almost choked. Ever since they met, Sherlock had refrained from speaking so formally because it made John uncomfortable. A very short, wisp of a woman next to Mummy smiled at that, although the smile did not reach her eyes.

 

“No, you are just on time. Mind you, you shouldn’t be running off and…having a snog before dinner with your relatives Sherlock. It’s just not good form.” the woman chided, and spots of pink blossomed on Sherlock’s sharp cheeks. John coughed in surprise and rubbed at the back of his neck, unsure of what to say. The woman saw him then and stood quickly, almost toppling the chair over in her rush to get to John’s side.

 

“Oh he is a dear, isn’t he?” she crooned, taking John’s jaw in her hand and turning his head from side to side lightly. Her hands were oddly cool and John wanted to pull away, especially when Sherlock gave a warning growl. “Hush Sherlock, I’m just _looking_.” she snapped at John’s ornery Alpha. “You’re a bright one, aren’t you? Very intelligent, I can see it in your eyes. That and the fact that you have a few graphite stains on your hand from taking chemistry notes. An unusual subject for an Omega, chemistry. I take it you want to be a doctor or a nurse then…it would fit an Omega’s nurturing needs without being too stereotypically Omega. I can tell you fight it.” she purred, stroking John’s hair much like someone would pet a show cat.

 

“Yes, John is incredibly bright and he wishes to be a surgeon.” Sherlock said stiffly, although there was a note of pride in his voice hidden amongst the terseness. “Now if you would please remove your hands from him Meredith.” he added, his eyes glinting dangerously. The woman, _Meredith apparently, what is with these names?_ John thought, dropped her hands and smiled sweetly at John.

 

“I apologize John. Meredith lost her Omega last year to cancer…because of the time she had to prepare she survived the break, but she’s been…unusually desperate to fill the void. Don’t be left alone in a room with her; I have no desire to murder my cousins this Christmas.” Sherlock murmured as he pulled out John’s seat for him. John was seated between Sherlock and Mycroft, and it was an almost uncomfortable experience being the physical barrier between the barrage of insults the two hurled at each other throughout dinner. However, John found the rest of Sherlock’s family to be pleasant enough, if not a little strange. When he thought about it, they were like more extreme versions of Sherlock and Mycroft. Most, if not all of them, were extremely adept at pointing out things that most people would not see. Some were reclusive like Sherlock, others were grandiose and show-offish like Mycroft, and a few were almost normal. John took a special liking to Sherlock’s cousin Quentin, a fourteen year old Beta. He was very similar to Sherlock mentally, although he did not shy away from emotions or relationships like Sherlock did, and was almost as tall as his cousin. However, his hair was a shocking shade of red and his eyes were a dark blue.

 

After dinner, it came time for presents. John had never before experienced such an intense gift exchange in his life. It seemed as if everyone was trying to one up each other, and the gifts were grandiose and often unnecessary. John watched and gaped at some of the gifts given, things like real silver candelabras (Mummy gave them to her sister, who then gave her a gold fob watch that was apparently a family heirloom), antique furniture pieces, and the occasional expensive piece of technology. However, everyone drew silent when Sherlock went to give John his gift. John’s heart rate quickened as he realized that this was not only their first Christmas together, but the first time either had had a reason to give the other a gift. John licked his lips nervously and hoped that his gift to Sherlock would not disappoint. John had saved his weekly ‘allowances’ that Mycroft and Mummy had given him (John hated the idea that he was being given money for no reason other than that he was eventually supposed to birth the Holmes heir) for months to purchase what rested beneath the wrapping paper in his hands, and Sherlock looked equally as shaken.

 

“Why are they all staring at us?” John whispered as conversation picked up slightly; apparently everyone had realized just how nervous they were making the pair.

 

“The first gift exchange between an Alpha and an Omega has always been a huge deal in my family. They often use it to determine if the pairing was truly the right one.” Sherlock explained quietly. John nodded in understand and pretended not to notice that Sherlock’s hands were shaking as they exchanged the gifts. John’s box was heavy, and the Omega had to let out a shaky breath before gently sliding his finger beneath the tape holding the paper shut and starting to unwrap it. The room grew silent once more, and John and Sherlock both felt the weight of Sherlock’s relatives watching as they unwrapped the gifts. John was the first one to reach the box, and he opened it so slowly that Quentin wanted to scream at him to get on with it. John’s breath caught when he saw what was inside.

 

A first edition copy of _Gray’s Anatomy_. John picked the book up with trembling hands, stroking the ancient spine gently and making a small noise that was somewhere between amazement and distress. Underneath the book was a small leather case. John reluctantly deposited the book in his lap and picked up the case. Unzipping it revealed a small set of surgical tools.

 

“You’ll need them for when you get into medical school.” Sherlock murmured. John looked up, his eyes brimming with tears, and after he had carefully set aside the gifts, launched himself at the Alpha. Sherlock made a muffled noise of surprise as John’s lips crashed against his, but then he was smiling and kissing John back, both of them completely forgetting that Sherlock’s entire family was in the room. Eventually Sherlock pulled away, cheeks flushed, and kissed John’s forehead. “Happy Christmas.” Sherlock said, and John laughed before sliding out of Sherlock’s lap.

 

Sherlock was almost bursting with pride at John’s reaction, having gotten him exactly the right thing, but he was also anxious to see what lay in his box. John seemed to be shaking with excitement, and Sherlock understood why the moment he lifted the lid. There were three books, one on H.H. Holmes, one on Jack the Ripper, and the third on the newest advances in forensic science. Sitting on the cover of the forensic science book was a pocket magnifier in a silver frame, _SH_ engraved on the side. Sherlock stared at John with wide eyes, and his entire family went still with shock. Sherlock had never before reacted positively to a Christmas gift, and now he was gaping at John like a man in a desert gapes at a glass of water. A slow, broad smile crossed Sherlock’s features, and then he was attacking John’s lips with renewed fervour, only breaking away when Quentin started wailing about how gross it was to watch his cousin and his new friend make out on the sitting room floor. Mummy simply blotted tears away from the corners of her eyes and conducted the rest of the evening like a composed hostess would.

 

-0-0-0-0-0-

 

“I’m surprised.” John muttered several hours later, curled up against Sherlock on the sofa in the sitting room after the last of the guests had filtered out of the manor.

 

“About what?” Sherlock questioned, nuzzling his nose into John’s hair and relishing the warm, reassuring scent of the Omega.

 

“Your family. I mean, after your uncle I thought…” John trailed off, biting his lip and shuddering violently at the memory. Sherlock’s arm tightened around John protectively and he growled low in his throat.

 

“Just because he is an idiot that deserves to have his skin peeled off does not necessarily mean that my entire family shares the values he has.” Sherlock said, resting his chin atop John’s head. “My grandfather was the last of the family to actually hold such horrible beliefs, and my uncle was the only child of his that was stupid enough to accept his delirious ravings as fact. Once the other members of my family were bonded to Omegas, or revealed as Omegas themselves, they realized exactly how wrong he was.” Sherlock continued, his voice a comforting rumble against John’s back. John let out a small sigh of comfort and nestled further back against Sherlock.

 

“You weren’t too keen on me the first time we met.” John finally whispered. Sherlock frowned deeply and pulled John impossibly closer.

 

“I wasn’t keen on the idea of becoming a slave to my biology. Once I grew to know you, I realized that our biological makeup was not the only thing that made us ideal partners.” Sherlock said, and John made a small, happy sound at that and tipped his head back to kiss the underside of Sherlock’s jaw. The two were silent after that, and they eventually fell asleep curled around each other on the sofa, a few books lying on the floor beside them and John’s surgical tools kit resting on the coffee table.

**Author's Note:**

> As I said in the tags, there will be absolutely no non-consensual sex. There may or may not be sex and/or sexual acts between the characters BEFORE they reach the age of 18 however. In Britain (as well as the rest of the UK I believe) the age of consent is 16. 
> 
> Keep in mind that this is an Omegaverse fic, and so mpreg is a possibility. 
> 
> The chapter notes at the beginning of each chapter will let you know if there is anything contained in the chapter more explicit than some heavy kissing/trigger warnings/ect.


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